


bubble gum

by yoongify



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Asexual Character, Bisexual Character, Car Accidents, Dancing, Dancing and Singing, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Like all fluff, M/M, Pansexual Character, Rap Battles, Self-Harm, Underground Rapping, Yoongi is Agust D, bangtan isn't a band it's a dance group, come one come all we've got literally every sexuality in this fic, everyone is an oblivious mess, except for meanie, gays travel in packs, meanie are Very Gay, some of them made a band called Angels, yoongi and jihoon and chan are brothers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-02-12 05:16:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 35,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12952122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoongify/pseuds/yoongify
Summary: haircuts and bubble gum, dancing and rapping, physics tests and electives. people meet in strange ways, but none of them every expected love because of it.ORin which everyone finds love because of unlikely beginnings.





	1. bubble gum beginnings

**_"everything happens for a reason, right?"_ **

_Pop._

"Hansol."

_Pop. Fwoooooo-pop._

"Hansol, you're going to get gum in my hair."

Hansol grinned, blowing yet another bright pink bubble. "Don't worry, hyung — I got it under control."

Jeonghan turned around in his seat, sighing. "Hansol. My dude. You're the best bro a guy could ask for, but if you get gum in my hair I will actually fuck you up."

Hansol pouted. "I thought you loved me."

"I do — I just love my hair more." The bus shook, bringing Hansol (and his obnoxious pink bubble gum) a lot closer to Jeonghan's hair than he would've liked. Jeonghan inhaled sharply, glaring at Hansol.

Hansol grinned, popping the bubble that was centimetres away from Jeonghan's milk-chocolate locks. "Like I said, don't worry!"

Jeonghan's eyebrow lifted, disappearing under his bangs, but he turned back around, closing his eyes as the bus swayed from side to side, Hansol's fingers running through his hair.

"Dude, your hair's so  _soft_."

_Fwooooo-pop. Fwooooooo-pop. Pop._

"Oops."

Jeonghan opened an eye, noticing a slight tugging on his hair, that eyebrow raising higher. "Hansol...?"

The tugging got fiercer.  _"Um_."

"Hansol Vernon Chwe," Jeonghan began, turning around, murder all over his angelic face, "you better hope you didn't get  _gum_ in my  _hair_."

A sheepish grin spread across Hansol's face, red rising up along his cheeks and ears. "Sorry, hyung."

Jeonghan sighed, long and deep, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're paying for my haircut, you know."

**~= <^>=~**

_'chweinggum has logged in'_

**memegyu  
** yo mah dude  
wassup

 **chweinggum  
** hi  
um  
how do you change your username

 **memegyu  
** its in settings  
why doe

 **chweinggum  
** because my chewing gum may or may not be the reason i'm with jeonghan hyung rn  
paying for his new haircut

 **memegyu  
** paying for his new...  
no  
nO  
yOU DIDNT ACTUALLY  
not his hAIR !!!!

 **chweinggum  
** i did  
sadly

 **memegyu  
** oh my fucking god that's  
that's insane

 **chweinggum  
** i regret every decision i've ever made   
leading up to this point

 **memegyu  
** lmao that's grEAT  
tbh tho  
i'm just glad ur alive  
kinda surprised he didn't murder you lmao

 **chweinggum  
** yeah that was the most terrifying 10 minutes of my life  
gtg pay for his haircut  
rip

 **memegyu  
** have fun don't die!!!1!11!!

 **chweinggum  
** ur such a meme i s2g

 **memegyu  
** not as much as you  
you boob

 **chweinggum  
** fuck you too you asshat

 **memegyu  
** ok but actually dont die  
youre my ticket to passing physics

_read 2:28 pm_

**~= <^>=~**

"And you're here because...?" The secretary asked, eyes drooping as he looked at Jeonghan. (He was bored, wasn't he — there was a game open in the second tab of his browser, and he was checking his phone every other minute, even though there were no notifications.)

Jeonghan smiled politely — maybe he could charm his way into a discount for poor Hansol over there — and said, "My friend got some gum in my hair and offered to pay for my haircut.  _Right, Hansol?"_ His sunny grin came hand in hand with a cutting glare, causing Hansol to pale, stammering out an agreement before looking away.

The secretary rolled his eyes, blowing a bubble of mint-green gum ( _the irony_ , Jeonghan thought). "Mmkay. Head over to the empty chair in the corner, and I'll have Seungcheol over there in a few."

"Thanks! My friend here is paying so I'll leave you two to work out the details," Jeonghan said, walking over. He snuck a final glance over at Hansol before taking a seat (and  _boy_ , did he look miserable) before taking off his cap and shaking out his hair the best he could with a giant wad of pink gum stuck in it. Jeonghan had been meaning to get a haircut anyways — Hansol getting gum stuck in his hair just gave him a proper excuse to cut it shorter than a trim.

"Are you Jeonghan?"

A little shriek escaped Jeonghan's mouth, provoking a laugh from the person behind him. He turned, hand against his chest. "Y-yeah, are you my stylist?"

The guy gave a mock bow, still giggling over Jeonghan's reaction. "Choi Seungcheol, at your service."

"Nice to meet you, Seungcheol."

Seungcheol grabbed a pair of scissors and a comb from the counter, securing a little apron-type thing around Jeonghan's neck. "I'm guessing you'd like me to get rid of the gum in your hair?"

"Yeah — my friend's a klutz. A huge one."

"The guy arguing with the secretary?"

Jeonghan glanced over — and sure enough, Hansol was in a very passionate argument with the lethargic secretary. "That's him."

Seungcheol frowned, still looking towards Hansol and the reception area. "Huh. He looks sorta familiar, although I can't place where I might've seen him before."

"I doubt it — he's a senior this year, and you look to be the same age as me...?" Jeonghan trailed off, his statement turning into a question.

"I'm in uni, second year, and I just do this as a side job. I got certified in... junior year?" His frown deepened, his metal earring catching the fluorescent ceiling light. "Yeah, that sounds about right. You?"

"Also second year uni, but I work at the bookstore in the mall."

"Mm." Seungcheol's tongue was peeking out the side of his mouth, brows furrowed in concentration, and if that wasn't the  _damned hottest thing_  Jeonghan had ever seen he was lying through his teeth. For a while after, they sat in comfortable silence, punctuated only by the soft  _snip, snip_  of Seungcheol's scissors, and Jeonghan's thoughts, gayer than Mingyu and louder than Hansol during movies.

Soon — too soon for Jeonghan's liking — there was a ring of dark hair around the chair, and Seungcheol was unfastening the apron he'd put on Jeonghan sometime between then and now, scissors on the counter, bright pink glaring up from the floor. His hair was just below his ears now, and he kept reaching up to brush it, the short tips just grazing his shoulders.

"It looks really good," he found himself saying, watching Hansol — still arguing with the secretary — to keep his eyes away from that  _earring,_  that  _mouth_ , those goddamn deep brown  _doe_   _eyes_  —

They had caught him and wouldn't let him go, and now he was ensnared in this horribly mushy gay mass of thoughts and ideas and  _stop your brain Jeonghan, not in public, not with someone you_ just met, _my god._

Seungcheol grinned, and it took every ounce of Jeonghan's willpower to not grin back.

"Hyung! I paid, can we leave now?"

Jeonghan turned, grateful for the distraction yet irritated at the distraction, and mumbled 'sure,' half under his breath. He began to walk towards the door, following Hansol like the lovesick idiot he knew he was, when someone grabbed his shoulder.

"You forgot this."

It was Seungcheol, holding Jeonghan's blue cap.

"Right."

Seungcheol's grin widened as Jeonghan grabbed the cap and placed it on his head, and this time Jeonghan smiled back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is literally all fluff ok
> 
> crossposted on wattpad as yoongify_


	2. of raps and roasts

**_"it's all fun and games until someone falls off their chair."_ **

Jihoon and Jisoo were at it again.

"Look, if we can just find a rapper or two, we'll be even stronger as a band."

(Jeonghan wished he had some popcorn, to be frankly honest.)

"Okay, but lots of bands don't have rappers and do just fine."

"The ones that do usually do better," Jisoo argued, tapping the body of his guitar with his fingers, covered in calluses from years of strumming unyielding strings. "Remember Day6?"

Jihoon nodded.

"Legends," Jisoo sighed, scratching his head as if it would conjure up a rapper for him to find.

"Brian and Jae's rapping  _may have_  made them complete," Jihoon said wearily, "but the vocalists were the foundation of the band."

"Okay, but—"

Jeonghan slapped his hands against the table, startling the other two. "Look, why don't we just put some posters up around campus and see who's interested? There might not even _be_ any rappers here to begin with."

Jihoon opened his mouth to disagree, but closed it when he saw the murder in Jeonghan's eyes. (There was only so much one man could take.) "Fine."

"Jisoo, you said you have a bud that does graphic design, right?"

Jisoo nodded, bopping his head to some imaginary beat. "Wonwoo, right."

"Can you get him to do some posters? We can, I don't know, pay him with whatever money we make from our next gig or something." Jeonghan grabbed a loose sheet of paper, jotting some quick notes down before handing it to Jisoo.

"Speaking of which," Jihoon said, "our next gig is just helping that music teacher at the high school next door, right?"

Jisoo nodded. "We actually get decently paid for this one, but it's during the day, which means we might have to miss some classes depending on our schedules. I guess if worst comes to worst we can just alternate who's teaching?"

"Jihoon's classes are all at night," Jeonghan interjected.

"How the fuck—"

"Does it fucking matter—"

"Your hair!" Jisoo screeched, nearly dropping his guitar as he flew upwards, callused fingers reaching out to touch Jeonghan's dark locks. "You didn't tell us you were gonna cut it!"

"Oh. Well, I cut it...?"

Jihoon laughed so hard he fell out of his chair, watching Jisoo stroke Jeonghan's now-short hair near-religiously. "Jisoo, it's just fucking hair."

"Yeah, but his hair was  _majestic_."

Jihoon opens his mouth — most likely to disagree — but says, "I mean, you're not wrong," instead of his usual cutting remarks.

"It looks good—" Jisoo began.

" _Right_ , bitch—"

"But why'd you cut it?"

Jeonghan barked out a laugh, a grin spreading across his face. "Guess."

"You got a hair elastic stuck in it."

"No."

Jihoon frowned. "Damn it, I hate guessing games."

"You wanted to change your hairstyle," Jisoo said.

"I mean,  _yeah_ , but no."

"You met a really hot hairstylist and couldn't say no."

Confusion flashed across Jeonghan's face. "What the fuck?  _No!_ " (Yes.)

Jihoon groaned, flopping all over the floor of Jisoo's dorm. "Just tell us already, you fucking dickbag."

"Hey."

Jisoo, with a scowl on his face. "Watch your language."

" _You_  watch your language!" Jihoon rolled over, pointing at Jeonghan. "And  _you_ , stop these damn games!"

Jeonghan had seen Jihoon mad on more than one occasion, the worst of those involving Mingyu, Jisoo's guitar, and one too many short-people jokes, and  _let him tell you_ he did  _not_ want Jihoon mad at him. Especially since Jisoo's guitar was within arm's reach. "Hansol got gum in my hair."

"So it wasn't because of a cute hairstylist?"

"I  _mean_..."

Jihoon bolted upright. " _Jeonghan!"_

"What?" Jeonghan's voice was full of fake innocence and sweet sunshine. (Not that it wasn't on a normal day  _but_  hey, acting innocent was a particular talent of his.)

"Yoon Jeonghan, you  _better fucking spill—!"_

"Fine! Fine, fine." He held his hands up in mock surrender. "I mean, I wasn't there  _because_  of the cute hairstylist, but  _damn_ , was he cute!"

Jihoon clicked his tongue, rolling over yet again. "How come you get all the cute men?"

"'Cause I actually go outside."

Jihoon slapped Jeonghan's leg, wrinkling his nose in a scowl. " _Rude_."

"Jihoon," Jisoo said, slim fingers resuming the  _tap-tap-tap_  of fingertips on guitar.

"What."

"Jeonghan has a point."

Jihoon's scowl widened, scrunching up the small features of his already-small face. "I go outside!"

"Jihoon," Jeonghan deadpanned, "the last time you went outside of campus was the summer, because you had to go home. Before that, it was Christmas,  _because you had to go home_." Jeonghan glanced over at Jisoo, who was barely stifling his laughter. "Are you seeing a pattern here or is it just me?"

Jihoon stuck his tongue out at Jeonghan. "Suck a dick."

"I'm gay."

"Eat a pussy."

Jeonghan placed a hand on his chest, mock offense on his face. "You've taken it too far, you  _heathen!"_

A crash sounded from the other side of the room, and the two paused their banter to look over at Jisoo, who had fallen off his bed, guitar and all, and was now red-faced and wheezing, those weird giggle-hiccup things escaping his mouth every now and then.

Jeonghan burst out laughing, watching as Jihoon started clapping as he laughed.  _A seal_ , he thought,  _he looks like a fucking baby seal_.

 _Creak_.

Jeonghan turned to face the open door, a tall man with a ridiculously sharp nose standing under the frame. "Jisoo, what the fuck?" he said.

For some reason Jeonghan found this funny.

(So did Jihoon. And Jisoo? Long past the point of anything being just  _funny_. No, to him this was downright  _hilarious_.)

"S-Seokmin, I swear—" Jisoo couldn't even talk, his face still red, air still absent from his lungs. "We're — we're not doing, like, drugs, or anything."

"You're literally a child of Jesus, I didn't even assume you were doing drugs."

Jihoon literally howled, throwing himself across the floor. "Child of— child of  _Jesus_ , that's — that's the most fucking accurate thing I've ever — ever heard, my fucking  _god_."

"He— he doesn't even  _swear_."

The three turned to Jisoo, mischief written all over their faces, the initial cause of their laughter all but forgotten.

"I bet he goes to church every week," Jeonghan breathed, watching fear creep its way up Jisoo's face, red draining to a papery white.

"I bet he flosses," the man at the door — Seokmin — said.

" _I_ bet," Jihoon said, and he said it with such finality that Jeonghan couldn't help but giggle, "he carries a bible around in his backpack."

"I do not!"

Jeonghan grinned. (When was the last time he'd smiled so much? His face was beginning to hurt.) "You probably do."

Seokmin grabbed Jisoo's backpack from where it was laying by the door, rummaging through for any sign of a bible.

"Ten bucks says he's got one."

"No one's gonna bet against that, Jihoon, he  _definitely_ does."

Seokmin grinned, pulling a thick black book from the depths of Jisoo's bag. "Look what I found!"

Jihoon burst out laughing at Jisoo's reaction, white going back to red in seconds. "He— he actually carries a fucking  _bible_  around—"

"Oh, screw off," Jisoo mumbled, flushing in embarrassment.

"No, fuck you—"

"What the  _fuck?"_

It was Hansol. (Of course it was, it had been nearly three o'clock  _before_ Jeonghan had even gotten to Jisoo's dorm.)

 _What a weird sight we must be_ , Jeonghan thought, trying to see how this would look from an outsider's point of view. Jihoon was still on the floor, Seokmin was holding a bible, Jisoo looked like a tomato, and Jeonghan was nearly falling out of his chair — and to top it all off, they were all laughing like idiots.

"Hyung—"

"It's—" Jeonghan sighed, shaking his head "—a  _long_  story."

Hansol opened his mouth, then closed it. Hesitantly, he asked, "Hyung, can we just go home? School ended half an hour ago."

Jeonghan jolted upright, pulling his phone out of his pocket.  _3:36_. Huh.

"Guess I lost track of time." Jeonghan turned around, giving Jisoo and Jihoon a quick wave before heading out the door. "See y'all — Jisoo, get those posters done by next week, and I  _better_ fucking see you at the school tomorrow." He headed out the door, following an impatient Hansol.

When they were a few blocks away from their apartment (their parents were friends, and luckily Hansol's mom was cool with him living with Jeonghan his senior year to get used to living on his own before university) Hansol asked him, "Hyung, what's for dinner?"

Jeonghan turned to look at Hansol, a sweet smile on his face. "Oh, did I forget to tell you? You make your own dinners now."

"Wha—  _hyung_ , I'm gonna burn down the goddamn kitchen."

"You won't. Probably."

Hansol pouted. "Is this because of the gum thing? I thought we were cool."

Jeonghan tilted his head, watching the fear grow in Hansol's eyes at the lack of anger and the icy intimidation in his. "Remember how I said if you got gum in my hair I'd fuck you up?" His grin widened. _"I wasn't fucking kidding."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the band in the tags y'all ok
> 
> i had so much fun writing this banter is my shit ok my s h i t
> 
> don't forget to comment and vote i'm a hoe for comments and votes


	3. hell (better known as high school)

**_"this kid's a fucking genius."_ **

"How come we graduate, finally get out of this hellhole, just to come back here to teach?"

Jihoon wrinkled his nose at the scent of B.O. and slightly stale cafeteria food flooding the cramped hallways, fluorescent lighting burning his already-tired eyes. "We're broke university students that were offered a well-paying job."

Jeonghan sighed. "True. Sad, but true."

The bell rang, and Jeonghan screamed, grabbing Jihoon's sweater. "SAVE ME—"

"Goddamnit, it's just passing period Jeonghan—"

And then the flood began.

It wasn't the slow trickle Jihoon had thought it would be, the slow trickle it was back when  _they_ still populated this dense hellhole — no, hundreds of high school students were swarming the halls, looking at their phones or chatting with their friends, a wave of people so strong Jihoon nearly got swept away. "Jeonghan if you want to live you  _better give me a piggyback I'm gonna get lost—"_

Five minutes later, the bell rang again and the ocean of people quieted into a tense silence, no sign of them ever being there but the loose papers dotting the halls, and a dark-haired boy running towards Jihoon and Jeonghan, arms full of binders. Jihoon squinted at the figure, the little tufts of hair sticking up at the back of his head looking oddly familiar.

"Chan?"

The boy's face lit up, and he ran faster, coming to a stop in front of the other two. "Hyung! What are you doing here?"

"Hey, Channie." Jihoon glanced at Jeonghan, nearly laughing at the confusion on his face. "Chan, this is Jeonghan, a friend from school. We're helping that music teacher with composing, remember?"

"Right. Hello, Jeonghan-hyung!" Chan's face split into a grin so wide Jihoon was worried he'd sprain his face muscles or something.

"Jeonghan, this is my brother, Lee Chan."

Jeonghan tipped his head to the side. "He's taller than you."

Jihoon scowled. "Just 'cause he's  _younger than me_ doesn't mean he's  _shorter than me_  that's not how genetics work Jeonghan  _Jesus Christ."_

"I..." Jeonghan licked his lips, fear flashing in his eyes. (Jihoon was always pleasantly surprised when he saw fear that  _he_ , five-foot-four  _Lee Jihoon,_ caused in him.) "I should not have said that."

"No, you shouldn't have."

"Hyung, can you stay when you're done the music thing?" Damn it, Chan was doing puppy eyes again. (And goddamn, were they good puppy eyes.) "We have a new dance that needs to be filmed and no one's as good as you."

Jihoon sighed, reaching up to ruffle Chan's hair. "Of course, Chan. I'm not majoring in video post-production for nothing."  _I can't just ignore you, can I?_

"Thanks! You're the best!"

Jeonghan cut in, a smile on his face. "Can you take us to room 203? We're... well, we're a little lost."

"We're not a little lost — we're  _highkey lost_ , Jeonghan, don't sugarcoat it."

Chan nodded eagerly, nearly dropping his binders. "My science class is next to it and I'm late anyways, I may as well help you guys out."

"Chan, you're  _actually_  the best."

As they were climbing the stairs, Chan a few steps ahead of them, Jeonghan whispered, "You didn't swear."

"What?"

"When we were talking to Chan. You didn't swear.  _At all._ "

Jihoon looked at Jeonghan, confusion all over his round face. "He's my younger brother, and innocent as far as I know. No way am I wrecking that by cursing in front of him."

"Oh." Jeonghan grinned. "Good, I thought you were sick or something — I've never seen you  _not_  swear."

Jihoon glanced forward, making sure Chan was a good distance away before whispering a _'fuck you'_  to Jeonghan.

Jeonghan's grin widened. " _There_ it is."

"Oh, fuck off."

**~= <^>=~**

"So what song is the dance to?"

"That new song by Rap Monster and that singer guy, Jin."

"I heard they're dating now."

Chan turned to Jihoon, his face lighting up. "Really? I knew they'd be a couple eventually!"

"Honestly, Chan, everyone did."

They turn into the dance studio, the sweat-scented, humid air hitting Jihoon in the face. People whose names Jihoon couldn't be bothered to learn but faces he couldn't be bothered to forget waved as they walked in, eyes drifting down to the camera dangling from Jihoon's neck and the tripod stand in his hand.

"Hyung, this is Minghao-hyung — he's that amazing Chinese dancer I told you about."

"Hey." He was tall-ish — taller than Jihoon for sure — but not so tall that he felt intimidated. He looked sweet, like a puppy dog, but his  _arms_ — he was fucking ripped. "You said he used to be a gymnast, right?"

Minghao nodded. "I also do karate."

"W-wow. Remind me to not get on your bad side."

Chan snorted as he walked away, gathering some of the other dance club members. "Mingyu-hyung got on his bad side and it was worse than that time you chased him with a guitar."

"Mingyu's actually an idiot, that's why." Jihoon began setting up the tripod and the camera near the front of the studio. "Can I see the dance before we film?"

"Sure." Chan grabbed the rest of the dancers he needed, plugging in his phone before getting one of the freshmen to press play. The music began, and the dancers started moving — and it was better than anything Jihoon had seen Chan do before.

He turned to Chan as the music ended. "Chan, is my jaw on the ground?"

"No... why?"

"'Cause that was fricking  _amazing_. Who were you covering? Was it 1Million again?" Words rushed out of Jihoon nearly faster than his brain could understand, but  _goddamn,_ was that good. "That was the best thing I've ever seen!"

Chan hid his face in his hands, mumbling, "Actually, I choreographed it myself."

Jihoon was  _sure_  his jaw was on the ground now. "No way.  _No fucking way_."

Chan nodded, a grin blooming up behind his slim hands.

"You— you made  _that?_ That was the best goddamn thing I've ever seen you dance, and you  _choreographed that?_ "

Minghao came up beside Chan, throwing an arm around his shoulders. "I'm telling you, hyung, your brother's a  _fucking genius_. I knew there was a reason we made him captain instead of me."

"Hyuuuung you're embarrassing meeeee—"

Jihoon was sure there were stars in his eyes. "Can I film this? It deserves — no, it  _needs_ to be on YouTube."

"It's not that good," Chan said, red rising in his small face.

"Chan, it  _so_  is." Chan's grin spread, and he looked like a little kid again. 

Jihoon gave him an answering smile. 

_Goddamn, I have never been a prouder brother._


	4. bras and pink skirts

**_"... there's a bra, isn't there."_ **

"Hyung, you know how I've been getting a lot of money lately?"

Jeonghan looked away from the pot on the stove, raising an eyebrow once he saw Hansol's hesitant face. "Yes...? If you tell me you're doing something illegal I swear to God I'll murder you, I didn't raise a criminal—"

"It's not illegal!" Hansol gave a sheepish grin. "Okay, it's a  _bit_  illegal. But it's not like, drugs or anything."

"...And you're telling me this because  _why?_ "

"Because I want to show you what my source of income is?"

"... Do I have to do anything weird?" Jeonghan scrunched his nose. "Are  _you_  going to be doing something weird?"

"Um, well,  _umm."_ Hansol laughed nervously, fear flitting across his face. "I said it was slightly illegal, right?"

"You did."

"Well, um, whenever I go there I normally wear like a mask and a hat, you know, to hide my identity, but since you're just coming as a spectator you can dress up? But you still need to be disguised." Hansol began to tap his fingers on the table, a nervous tic that he'd never really gotten rid of. "So I may or may not have borrowed some of my sister's friend's clothes for you to wear?"

Jeonghan stared at Hansol. "You want me to dress up. As a girl. To go  _god knows where_  that's  _slightly illegal_. And apparently a good way of making money."

"Yes...?"

Jeonghan sighed, turning back to the stove. "This better be worth it, Hansol."

"It will be!" He grinned, strangely resembling a puppy. "I think."

**~= <^>=~**

"Skirts are uncomfortable!"

"But you need to look like a girl!"

"But  _skirts!"_

"But  _disguise!"_

Jeonghan resigned with a sigh (one of many this evening). "You better be paying for my food and coffee for the next month."

"Wha—  _week!_ "

"Two weeks."

Hansol pouted. "You already made me pay for your haircut!"

"Yeah, and now you have to pay for my food."

Hansol let out a groan. " _Fiiiiiiine_. Just put on the goddamn skirt." He threw it at Jeonghan, a horrible, short, pink thing.

Jeonghan shut the door to the bathroom, taking off his sweats and wriggling his way into the skirt, uncomfortably aware of the way air brushed against his calves and lower thighs, of the way the fabric rose and lifted when he turned.

"Oh! Don't forget the top!"

Jeonghan opened the door and was met with a faceful of obnoxiously pink fabric. "Top—  _Hansol!"_

" _Disguise_ , hyung!"

"Just the top and makeup, right?"

" _Welllll..."_

"Hansol."

He didn't respond.

" _Hansol."_

"Yes?"

"... There's a bra, isn't there."

"... _yes?"_

**~= <^>=~**

"I understand wearing a bra, but why did we stuff it with  _socks?"_

Hansol shrugged. "I mean, it was that or tissues, and socks are a bit more sturdy."

"Yeah, but they  _itch_. Like hell. And the clasp is too tight — I knew this was a bad idea."

"Hyung, it was either this or not come at all, so take your pick!"

Jeonghan shrugged his shoulders, trying to adjust the straps of the (also obnoxiously pink) bra without actually grabbing the lace-covered elastics. "Why'd you even think I'd look good cross-dressing anyways? It's pretty goddamn obvious that I'm a boy!"

"It's actually not, though?" Hansol looked at Jeonghan again, then continued, "You've got a pretty slim figure for a guy, so you can actually fit into my sister's stuff, and once you add a stuffed bra, makeup, and your long hair, you've got guys checking you out cause you think you're actually a girl!"

Jeonghan flushed in embarrassment, tugging on the hem of the skirt. (It was still too short, and he still hated it.) "No way are there guys checking me out."

"A few girls too, actually." Jeonghan's face got even redder, and Hansol grinned. "Just wait till we get into the club and people start hitting on you."


	5. dim lighting and doe eyes

**_"who knew rappers could be so goddamn... cute?"_ **

They walked into a club, one of those neon-light, EDM places that Jeonghan hated. Hansol whispered something to the bouncer at the door, then again to the bartender, and they were led to a small staircase in the storage closet, the door shut behind them by the bartender.

It was dark in the closet, and darker in the stairwell, the walls moist — with what, Jeonghan didn't want to know — and the steps made of what looked like concrete, harsh and unfurnished. Their last few steps were met with water (at least, he hoped it was water) dripping from the ceiling, splashing across their shoulders and heads, until Hansol pulled open a door that led them to a room strangely similar to the one upstairs.

One difference: the music playing was rap, not EDM.

Jeonghan looked around, noting that everyone was wearing masks, or heavy makeup, or hoods, not unlike Hansol, who was sporting a white mask and a gray sweatshirt, the hood up and around his face.

Hansol looked around nervously before grabbing Jeonghan's hand, dragging him along to god-knows-where while people stared.

(Jeonghan hoped that it wasn't at him.)

"H-Hyung," Hansol said, "If I leave you at a table with my friends will you let them watch over you?"

"Hansol." He turned, eyes flickering from table to table, then to the stage and back. "Why are you so nervous?"

"I-I—" Hansol gulped at air that seemingly wasn't there, a bead of sweat that even Jeonghan could see trickling down his face. "I just, just, — I worry. About everything. Just — stay safe?" He led Jeonghan to a table with another person covered in hoods and masks, telling Jeonghan to sit down. "Stay safe."

Jeonghan nodded, watching Hansol closely as he mounted the stairs to the stage, a microphone passed to him by one of the people standing by the stairs, bright lights hitting his face as he turned towards the audience.

A girl dressed in a pink outfit that was scarily similar to Jeonghan's hopped up those same steps, one of those professional headsets around her dyed-blond hair, a cheesy grin on her face. " _Eeeeeeveryone,_ give a warm welcome to Vernon!"

The audience exploded, yells and whoops and what Jeonghan really hoped weren't wolf whistles flying up from every corner of the dark room.

"Now, y'all know he's gotten real popular these past few months, even joining S. Coup's  _legendary gang_ —" More whistles and cheers, complete with shouts of 'Vernon!' and 'Coups!' " _—but_ here's what'll really prove his worth!"

She grinned again (and at this point Jeonghan realizes it's not cheery, but in fact  _shit-eating_ ), and gestured towards the other side of the stage, another hooded figure climbing the stairs. " _Mark!"_

He —  _Mark_  — is also holding a mic, and again, Jeonghan wondered  _why_. To be frankly honest, there's too many questions for him to be comfortable here, in the basement of a bar with strobe lights flashing and bass pounding from the large speakers. The girl's shit-eating grin had returned, and Jeonghan wondered how long it would take him to get tired of her. (Not long, if she continued things the way she was already.)

"For you newcomers, here's a quick rundown of the rules —" And there it was, Jeonghan  _officially_ couldn't stand her anymore "—Bet on who you think'll win, and the judges decide the winner after three rounds. Winner makes more money, am I right?" She winked at the crowd, eliciting laughter and applause. Grabbing the boys' arms, she raised them high above her. "Spit fire, boys!"

She then turned to the crowd, Hansol and Mark's arms still firmly in her grasp. " _3...2... 1... Begin!"_

The bass started up again, a newer, louder, quicker beat, and Hansol turned to the kid —  _Mark_  — as soon as his arm was freed, raising the mic to his crisp white mask. But before he could get a word out, Mark began  _rapping_ , of all things, words flying so fast Jeonghan could barely catch them.

And Jeonghan finally understood why he was dragged here. Why everyone was wearing masks and hoods, why it was hosted in the basement of an unpopular bar, why the music was just beats and no lyrics.

"Underground rap battling," he breathed. Across the table from him, someone in a black beanie with equally black wire-rim glasses and a mask covering the lower half of his face nodded, readjusting his beanie.

"Vernon's one of the best rookies we've seen yet. A true dark horse. Frankly, I'm surprised S. Coups didn't let him join our group before this, because he's been battling for about half a year and he's already surpassed a lot of the newcomers, including a lot of Mark's group."

Another tall, beanied-and-masked man walked up to the table, slamming his hands down hard enough to topple a glass of water to the floor. "Jeon, it's been ten seconds since Vernon left and you're already spouting your philosophical bullshit. You honestly should've just become a philosophy major or some shit."

"Well, fuck you too, Kim."

"In your dreams, Jeon."

Jeonghan turned back to the stage. Hansol was rapping now, his words somehow faster than Mark's and more coherent, to boot. "Who're the judges?"

The two men stopped their bickering long enough for them to answer in creepy unity. "Suga, J-Hope, and Rap Monster."

Jeonghan blinked. "Wait,  _Rap Monster_? As in Rap-Monster-doing-collabs-with-Jin-it's-Rap-Monster-not-Dance-Monster Rap Monster?"

"Yeah, that Rap Monster," the one wearing glasses — Jeon? — replied.

"And you know Agust D?" the other chimed in. "Yeah, that's Suga."

Jeonghan blinked again, more in surprise than anything else. "If they've gone pro, why do they come here? Isn't this—" he paused, trying to remember how Hansol had phrased it " —  _slightly illegal_?"

"Well, they started out rapping here — all three of them," Jeon said, "and just kept coming back once they went pro."

"They're kind of legends here," Kim replied, eyes crinkling into a smile that Jeonghan wished he could see, because he looked like a happy puppy. "Only rappers so far to make it pro after starting out here."

"Yes,  _here_ , in an illegal underground rap battling ring." Jeon rolled his eyes, leaving Jeonghan to laugh at the way the two were so different yet complemented each other so well — Jeon with his biting sarcasm and harsh truths, and Kim with his puppy smiles and flowery optimism. "Not that they couldn't've made it pro in, y'know, a  _slightly more legal way_?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't change the fact that they're still  _legends_ , Jeon.  _Legends_ ," Kim breathed, barely audible, eyes sparkling.

"Sure."

"Who's S. Coups?"

Kim and Jeon turn to Jeonghan. "You'll see him soon enough," Jeon says.

Kim hits him. "Being mysterious doesn't suit you, you goddamn  _computer nerd like what the actual fuck._ "

"Oh screw you, it fits me just fine. Not like you, you goddamn _overgrown puppy_."

"Overused dark-and-mysterious trope!"

"Kindergartener's birthday party!"

Kim gasped, and at this point Jeonghan wasn't sure whether he was mocking Jeon or whether he was legitimately offended. "Take that back,  _heathen!_ "

"Never!"

Gloved hands slammed down on the table, startling everyone. "I swear to god," the man said, brows furrowing, "if you guys are fighting again I'm never letting you battle again. Have fun being broke college students."

"Coups!" Kim grabs the man — S. Coups — from the side, pulling him into an altogether way-too-huge hug. "You know we love each other — please oh please don't take away my only source of income."

S. Coups sighed, untangling himself from the overenthusiastic Kim. "Y'know, sometimes I think you're cool, and then you pull shit like this and I understand why Jeon calls you a puppy." He turned towards the stage, squinting up at the two figures. "Vernon's up?"

Jeon nodded. "Against that Mark dude. Y'know, the one always making out with Jackson Wang?"

S. Coup's nose wrinkled under his mask. " _That_ Mark?"

"Yeah.  _That_ Mark."

"He better beat him." S. Coups's gaze travelled to the other side of the table, noticing Jeonghan for the first time. "And who's this?"

"I don't know. Vernon's friend. Wouldn't give me a name."

"And I still won't give you one," Jeonghan retorted, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "Won't give you a number either."

S. Coups laughed, gesturing vaguely towards the other two. "No need to worry — they're both gay."

Jeonghan opened his mouth, about to retort that that was exactly what would  _make_  him worry — and then he remembered he was currently clad in an annoyingly pink skirt, complete with makeup and a matching hairdo. "R-right." (Now that he knew the disguise was  _actually working_ , he wasn't sure whether to thank Hansol or hit him.) (Or both. Both would be good.)

"So, how about a name?" He could practically  _see_  S. Coups's smile under the mask, deep brown doe eyes twinkling in the dim light.

"Um—" he panicked " — Jiyeon, my name's Jiyeon."

S. Coups's grin widened, and Jeonghan wanted to pull off his mask to see it. "Jiyeon, huh? Nice to meet you."

And Jeonghan could've sworn he'd seen those brown, deep goddamn  _doe eyes_  before.


	6. battles on the dance floor

_**"there's nothing worse than realizing your sworn enemy's the hottest person on earth."** _

"Calm your tits, Chan, if you don't get in then no one will."

" _Language_ , Minghao."

"Jihoon-hyung, if you didn't swear in every other sentence I would listen to you." The Chinese boy grinned, crossing his arms. "But you do, so I won't."

Jihoon groaned, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. " _Why_  did I agree to take you to this audition."

Chan grinned. "Because you love us, hyung!"

"This is too early. I'm not functioning yet."

Chan scrunched up his nose. "Hyung, it's ten in the morning."

"Exactly.  _Too early_."

Minghao slung an arm around Chan's shoulders, shit-eating grin on his face. "I'll buy you a coffee when we're done."

"Two."

"One and a muffin."

Jihoon scowled, punching Minghao's arm. "Fine."

They walked into the building that loomed up in front of them, the familiar scent of sweat and hardwood rushing to greet them as they opened the door. Jihoon wrinkled his nose. "Smells like you, Minghao."

"Smells like the boys' locker room after the football unit in gym."

"Yeah, smells like you."

A grinning boy waved to them as they turned the corner past the lobby of the large building, teeth flashing in a bunny-like smile. "Are you guys here for the audition?" When they nod, he continued, "We're in studio three; there'll be three judges, and you guys'll just have to learn a combo and then perform it the best you can." His grin widened, and he looked right at Chan. "Simple, right?"

Chan took a shaky breath, grabbing Jihoon's hand. "R-right, simple."

Jihoon squeezed Chan's hand tightly, whispering, "You got this, Chan."

"I just give you three numbers before you head in," the man said, grabbing a stack of something from the counter.

Jihoon coughed. "Um, I'm actually just here to watch. Supervising those two and what not." He lifted up his camera bag halfheartedly, flushing hot under the man's stares. "It's okay for me to film the audition, right?"

The man didn't say anything, and Jihoon began to panic. "It's just — they're part of the dance club at the school next door and I'm — I guess I'm their unofficial photographer? But yeah, it'd be cool to have this for their YouTube... uh, YouTube channel, and, uh... yeah," he finished lamely, hands flopping to his sides from where they'd been gesturing wildly through the air.

The man pursed his lips, giving Chan and Minghao their numbers while he thought it over. "I mean, I'm not really the one in charge here so I can't give you permission; when you head into the studio, ask for Hoshi-hyung, and I'm sure he'll let you!" He grinned — albeit nervously — and sent them on their way.

The studio was filled with other nervous students, warming up in their own respective corners of the room, numbers visible on their t-shirts and tanktops, hair up and out of the way. A man with shockingly blond hair sat at a table with two others, one tall and lanky, one short and strong. The blond walked towards them as they entered the room, a smile on his face.  _Come to greet Chan and Minghao,_ Jihoon thought, rifling through his bag of camera equipment to make sure everything was there.

Jihoon looked up, and froze as the man got closer, finally recognizing that blond, blond hair and that cocky swagger.  _"Kwon Soonyoung."_

The man's smile shifted into a smirk when he noticed Jihoon, pushing a hand through his annoyingly blond hair.  _"Lee Jihoon_. What brings you here, overgrown cat?"

"My brother's a dancer, you beanstalk," Jihoon shot back, "and he's here for this stupid audition. What are  _you_  doing here?"

"Why, I run the place, of course!" That smirk, that  _terribly annoying smirk_  widened with a wiggle of Soonyoung's eyebrows, and Jihoon wanted nothing more than to slap it off of his self-centered, entitled face. "So I guess  _I_  get the final say on whether your  _precious brother_  makes it into the crew or not, hmm?"

Jihoon scowled, brandishing his bag of equipment and tripod like a weapon. "I'll bribe the other judges if that's what it takes. No way in  _hell_  am I letting you keep Chan from something he deserves because of a petty catfight."

Soonyoung snorted. "Of course  _you_  would call  _this_  a catfight."

"Kwon, I don't know what you're implying but  _I don't like it_."

"You never like anything I do,  _Lee_ , so why would you start now?"

"That's not even a proper comeback!"

"You're not even a proper person,  _shortie!"_

"Hey." Two hands pushed them apart, and it was only now that Jihoon noticed everyone else was staring. "Soonyoung, you don't start an audition by arguing with some of your  _auditioning dancers' chaperones_ , okay?" The guy raised an eyebrow, pursing his large lips at Soonyoung before turning to Jihoon. (Weirdly enough, he looked super familiar, although Jihoon didn't know where he could have recognized him from.)"I don't know how you know him but he should know better by this point, I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," Jihoon said, flashing the guy a grin. "Besides, I expected nothing less from  _him_." His words were punctuated with a smile that looked more like he was baring his teeth before he struck and a glare that could kill thousands, all directed at Soonyoung. Jihoon turned to Chan and Minghao. "I'm gonna go set up, okay? Have fun at the audition."

The man from earlier ran in as Jihoon was heading to the side of the room, knocking Jihoon's shoulder and nearly causing him to drop his camera. "Shit— sorry!" Jihoon shrugged, continuing to set up. As long as his equipment wasn't damaged, he could excuse anyone's clumsiness.

Soonyoung —  _fucking Kwon Soonyoung_  — and the other two that were sitting next to him stood up and walked in front of the table, facing the rest of the room, the guy with the bunny smile joining them. "Hey, dancers! I'm Hoshi, leader of Bangtan Dance! 2 years old, Bangtan Dance was founded by Jung Hoseok, who most of you guys would know as J-Hope, the rapper and dancer." Whispers and murmurs spread like wildfire in the gathering crowd, eyes widening as Bangtan Dance's prestigious backstory was unveiled.

The shorter guy next to him smiled — and  _damn,_ did he have a cute eyesmile — and said, "I'm Jimin, a good friend of both Jung Hoseok and Hoshi here, and the sub-leader of Bangtan Dance. I also choreograph for Agust D and help out Hoseok a bit. Nice to meet you, and good luck!" His words were accompanied by more whispers, louder than before.

Jihoon looked up at Jimin's words, squinting before his eyes widened in surprise — Jimin was  _that_  Jimin, the Jimin his older brother had spoken of so highly and fallen in love with.  
_That_  Jimin.

Jihoon's eyes narrowed, watching Jimin closely. Looked like Yoongi had some explaining to do.

The third man, lanky and tall, stepped forward, a light accent dusting his words. "I'm Jun, a Chinese exchange student majoring in dance theory and choreography. I look forward to working with you!" He gave a smile that seemed to turn into a smirk as his eyes travelled around the studio.

The bunny-faced man was last, smiling as he looked around at the dancers. "Hi, I'm Jungkook, golden maknae of Bangtan Dance!"

Jimin cut in with a knowing grin at Jungkook, stopping Jungkook's self-introduction in its tracks. "This smart kid skipped a grade, so he's the same age as some of you — really is the golden maknae, although he may not be the maknae after this audition!" Laughs bubbled up from the crowd at this, more at the fact that Jungkook —  _buff, tall, handsome Jungkook_  — was the maknae than anything else.

And with that, the audition began.

Jihoon couldn't find either Chan or Minghao until near the end of the audition, when it was their group's turn to perform the combo they had hurriedly learned not even an hour prior. The music — Agust D's newest track ( _Wow, wonder how they got it)_  — started up for the umpteenth time in the past half hour, Jimin enthusiastically counting them in from the sidelines.

And again, Jihoon was reminded how talented his brother really is. Chan not only hit all the moves better than most of the other dancers, but added his own flair to it, a fierceness that Jihoon had rarely seen in his brother before but was enjoying it while it was there. Minghao was just as good, his past experience b-boying allowing him to add flashy tricks and spins in the improv sections. The music wound down, and both Chan and Minghao ran for their water, sweat dripping down their faces as Jihoon stopped his recording of their audition.

The next group began, and even though Jihoon wasn't a dancer he could tell that they were terrible. Half of them were off time —  _way_  off time — and the other half weren't giving the moves their all, even if they had them in the right order. Before the song was even halfway done Soonyoung cut in, pausing the music with a glare on his face.

"You think that was good, huh?" he said, voice icy cold and full of steel. "You think that's the kind of dancing that'll get you into Bangtan?"

One of the better dancers in that group shook his head, fear evident in his eyes. (Smart kid. The others barely even acknowledged Soonyoung.)

Soonyoung nodded at the boy, snarl tugging at his lips. "You're right, number 54.  _It wasn't_. Jimin, start the music." The bass began to pound from the speakers again, and Soonyoung moved to the centre of the studio, the auditioning dancers wisely moving out of his way. "Kids, lemme show you how a  _real dancer_  does it."

The chorus began, the part that Soonyoung had choreographed to, and  _boy_  was Jihoon glad that he began recording the minute Soonyoung said to restart the music because he was fucking  _incredible_. He didn't want to admit it, but Soonyoung was  _miles_  better than Minghao. Better than Chan, even. Jihoon couldn't remove his gaze from Soonyoung, despite the fact that he could barely look at him, his stupid fucking  _dormmate_ , on a good day. Despite the fact that he hated Soonyoung more than he hated people calling him cute (and he hated those people  _a lot_.)

Two hard basses sounded from the speakers, accentuated by two  _very strong hip thrusts_  and a flip of Soonyoung's bleached blond hair, followed by a body roll into some hard popping, and Jihoon's jaw  _dropped._ Even if he hadn't been gayer than  _Yoon fucking Jeonghan_  his jaw would've dropped. Soonyoung was just  _incredible_.

If there was one thing Jihoon was, it was honest. Even with himself. Even if it hurt to admit it.

( _Especially_  if it hurt to admit it.)

And this, this truth he found in a sweaty dance studio, surrounded by auditioning dancers when he didn't even dance, it hurt more than admitting he wasn't enough to keep Yoongi with the family, and still isn't enough for Chan, his precious little brother Chan.

Kwon Soonyoung, he had realized, might've been his worst enemy. Might've been the person he'd been exchanging insults with and avoiding since day one of university.

But  _damn_ , was Kwon Soonyoung hot.

And — wow, he was finding this harder and harder to admit by the second — maybe, just  _maybe,_  Lee Jihoon was the  _tiniest bit in love_  with his stupid goddamned dormmate,  _Kwon fucking Soonyoung_.

For the first time in a long time, Jihoon found himself hating the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope y'all are having a good holiday season! merry christmas to those who celebrate and happy holidays to those who don't!
> 
> feedback is much appreciated, comments make my day brighter! thanks to all those who have already commented or left kudos ^^


	7. gay crises™

**_"a brand new gay crisis"_ **

**smol anger  
** hyung  
yoongi hyung  
come quickly

 **agust d(ipshit)  
** hoonie  
what the fuck it's 3 in the fcuking morning  
also why am i agust dihpsit who the fuck

 **smol anger  
** wasn't me  
prolly hobi tbh he loves screwign around wth our names  
and you're prolly in your goddamn studio again  
its ont like i woke u up or smth

 **agust d(ipshit)  
** i mean  
tru  
also

_agust d(ipshit) changed their name to suga_

**suga  
** better

_smol anger changed suga's name to shooga_

**smol anger  
** even better

 **shooga  
** i  
i can't even be mad at you that's basically how it's said

 **smol anger  
** :)))))))

 **shooga  
** so what troubles thee in the midst of the nihgt, borther?

 **smol anger  
** borther lmao  
im having a gay crisis yoongi  
help

 **shooga  
** didnt u already have ur gay crissi  
or is this a different gay crisis

 **smol anger  
** a brand new gay crisis  
what do u do ifu fall in love wth ur dormmate  
whom u hate  
and he turns out to be the leader of ur younger brothers dance groip

 **shooga  
** well  
tbh all i can think is u fucked up

 **smol anger**  
wow thanks

 **shooga  
** second is ur gonna end up hatefcuking at sum point  
u dont go from enemies to lovers right away  
u hatefuck first

 **smol** **anger**  
id say ew but tbh im down for a hatefuck  
how do i get him to hatefuck tho  
waIT  
WAHT IF HES NOT EVEN GAY  
WHTA DO I DO THNE HYNUG HLEP

 **shooga  
** you said hes the leader of bangtan rite  
hobi knows him, says hes gay  
i mean pan but point is he likes dick  
dw u good  
now we just gotta see if he likes u  
ima ask jimin

 **smol anger  
** dONT ASK JIMIN TF  
also  
i *met* jimin, hyung  
anything u wanna say  
why have i not seen him in person b4  
do u have beef wth me or smth  
not letting ur fave bro meet ur bf  
what kinda fake bro shit is dis

 **shooga  
** i stg i jsut never got a chance okay  
being an idol is exhaustign  
and i sent u a photo

 **smol anger  
** yea thats how i recofnized him  
bUT DONT ASK HIM HELL GET SUSPIICIOS  
HELL TELL HOSIH

 **shooga  
** bicth he just asked me whether ur crushing on hoshi or not  
he cant be suspicious if uve been fucking obvious abt it  
im asking him  
also go to sleep u have hw and school  
prbably

 **smol anger  
** i do but its done  
mostly

 **shooga  
** exactly  
get some sleep or im getting jimin to expose ur gay ass  
_Read 3:47 am_

**~= <^>=~**

"Hyung! Hyung we made it  _we made it wemadeit ohmygod!"_

Minghao grinned, wrapping an arm around Chan. "'Course we did, Chan, you were the best one there!"

"Nonono, that's you, hyung!"

"Sorry, kid, think you steal the cake for that. There's a reason we made you leader, aight?" Minghao knew that anyone else in his position, leadership stolen by a junior, would be jealous, or mad, but Chan was just too sweet. Too soft. Minghao couldn't bring himself to hate Chan, and every day Chan gave him more reasons not to.

Chan flushed red at the compliments, mumbling an 'alright, hyung,' before that sunshiney grin made its way back across his face. "I'm gonna text the club and tell them the good news!"

"'Kay." Minghao looked at the sheet again, eyes widening when they reached the bottom of the page. "Fuck- Chan, Chan stop texting, we gotta fucking go-"

Chan looked up from his phone. "What is it?"

"First practice is today, at fucking  _4:30_ , and it's already 4:15 Chan we gotta go  _wegottago_ -"

"Wait, really?"

"Chan, would I lie to you about a dance practice?" Minghao deadpanned, grabbing Chan's wrist and dragging him behind him. "C'mon, let's  _go_ -"

Of course the high school had to be a ten minute run from the university, and then another three minute run away from the dance building, so by the time they got there (4:29 on the fucking  _dot_ ) they were a sweaty mess, faces flushed from running. The lanky man from the audition - Jun- smirked as they ran in.

"Nearly late again?"

Minghao just glared at him, too out of breath to be throwing sharp comebacks anytime soon.

"Don't make it a habit, little fairy."

_Little fairy - who the fuck did he think he was, this stupid Wen Junhui kid-_

"Don't you think it's a bit too soon to be giving me a nickname?" Minghao shot back, still slightly breathless. "And of all things you could have said,  _fairy?_  Why?"

Jun grinned, walking past the two boys to the center of the room, staring right at Minghao as he replied in rapid fire Mandarin, "Because you look like one, you pretty little thing."

And if Minghao had said he didn't blush at that he was lying.

**~= <^>=~**

Most times, Minghao didn't really care about a person's physical appearance when he liked them - it was their personality he was concerned about.

Most times.

But watching Jun,  _fucking Jun,_ who had the  _audacity_  to  _flirt with him_ in  _Mandarin_  dance was more than his poor little heart could take.

And this man had the fucking audacity to look right at Minghao on a set of  _particularly strong_ hip thrusts while showing the newbies some of Hoshi's new choreography, and the  _fucking audacity_  to  _wink_  at him.

Minghao didn't usually like someone because of their appearance, but Jun was apparently the exception to the rule.


	8. angels and devils

**_"didn't expect_ you _to be gay too."_**

 "Look, I told you there were kids on campus who rapped."

Jihoon rolled his eyes. "Doesn't mean they're any good, though."

"And how would you know what a good rapper is?"

"My brother raps."

"How do you know your brother's any good?"

"Guys!" Jeonghan rolled his eyes, gesturing towards the door. "So, said rappers are arriving, and I don't know about you, but  _I_ don't want their first impression of us to be that we can't get along." A grin spread across his face, grabbing both Jisoo and Jihoon by the wrists as he dragged them towards the middle of the room.

"Hi!" he said, voice cheerful and excited. (Jisoo and Jihoon exchanged glances behind his back —  _what happened to the snarky Jeonghan we know and love?)_  "I'm Jeonghan, main vocalist for Angels, and behind me are Jihoon, our pianist and sub-vocal, and Jisoo, guitarist and another sub-vocal. Are you guys here for the audition?"

Jeonghan's eyes landed on the guy to the right, black hair tousled artfully on top of his head, a small smile accompanying the same soft doe eyes Jeonghan fell for when Hansol got gum in his hair. His mouth fell open, blinking in surprise. "Seungcheol?"

Seungcheol's smile shifted into a look of surprise. "You— you're that customer with the really nice hair and the idiot friend! Jeonghan!"

"I didn't know you rapped!"

Seungcheol laughed, that soft smile back on his face. "I didn't know you sang, but here we are."

"Hey." The two turned to Jihoon, whose arms were crossed, scowl on his small face. "Look, I appreciate the fact that you both  _know_  some of the people here for the audition, but do you know how  _awkward_ it is to  _watch_  those meet and greets?"

Jeonghan turned — apparently Jisoo and the other guy were having their own reunion. "This is Wonwoo, my graphic designer buddy," Jisoo said, attempting to throw an arm around Wonwoo's shoulders. (He dropped it within a minute, though — Wonwoo's height made his arm lift at  _such_  an awkward angle.) "The one who made our posters for this audition, actually."

Before Jeonghan could reply, someone burst through the door, panting and breathless. "Sorry I'm late!" He looked around the room, noticing there were only five people. "Am I late?"

"Oh, hey, Mingyu!" Jeonghan walked towards him with a grin. "I don't think you can be late when there's only five people here."

Mingyu breathed a sigh of relief. "Perfect."

As if his words were the trigger, people started flooding through the door, at least twenty people arriving all at once. Jeonghan turned — Jisoo's mouth was hanging open and he was pretty sure Jihoon became a statue, because he wasn't moving.

"I—" Jeonghan could feel a smile stretching at his face, uncontrollable joy surging through him, "I think we need to figure out a better way to pick a rapper."

**~= <^>=~**

"Rap battling?" Disgust flitted across Jihoon's small face before being replaced with apprehension, arms crossing against his chest. "Why  _rap battling_."

"It'll be an easy way to narrow it down," Jeonghan said, pushing a lock of hair away from his face, glancing back at the groups of guys (and a few girls, surprisingly) milling around the large room. "There's honestly  _so many_ of them that if we don't do rap battling, which can at least cut this down to half, we'll be here till past dinner."

Jisoo looked sold, but Jihoon was still scrunching his nose in the way he did when he didn't like something, so Jeonghan kept going.

"Okay, so Hansol does underground rap battling and showed, and explained all the rules and shit, and it's actually a really great way to figure out whether they'll be good just in general?" Jeonghan was gesturing wildly by this point, but that was okay (as long as he didn't hit Jihoon — he did that once and had to hide at Hansol's for a week). "But they have to make up lyrics  _on the spot_ , and it can be — it can be fucking  _whatever,_ man, as long as it fits with the beat, and the faster you rap the more points you get and you win when the opponent just admits defeat?"

Jihoon opened his mouth, hesitant. "We'll give it a try."

And so Jeonghan was grabbing microphones from that storage closet they found in the back of the room and Jihoon was frantically setting up the sound system that the room was (thankfully) equipped with while Joshua ran around the room getting their names of everyone in the room to pair them up and explaining the whole idea of rap battling, eliciting more than a few 'what?'s and 'the fuck?'s from around the room.

"Okay," Jeonghan said, breathless. "Let's get this show on the road!"

"First pair," Jisoo called, "Youngwon and Sejun, come to the middle of the floor — when the beat starts, just start rapping!" When both of the boys had a microphone in their hand (albeit  _nervously_ ), Jihoon pulled up whatever beat he'd been mixing the other day and let it blast through the speakers.

If Jeonghan was to be frankly honest, they were both terrible. Sejun kept stuttering, although his lyrics were coming quite quickly, and Youngwon was spitting fire — at a rate of one word per minute. Jeonghan rolled his eyes, gesturing for Jihoon to stop the music.

"Youngwon, Sejun," he began, an amicable smile on his face, "that was fucking terrible. Please leave, or I'll get Jihoon to chase you with Jisoo's guitar." He  _knew_  his smile wasn't reaching his eyes, but that was okay. (That was what he was going for.) And for all his delicate beauty, Jisoo once said he could kill a man with his passive aggressive glares. (For the record, he was right.)

The two left, tension hanging heavy in the air. "Uh, Mingyu and Wonwoo," Jisoo called, handing them the microphones the others left behind. Jihoon started the music again, and Jeonghan had barely yelled 'begin!' before Wonwoo was rapping with a voice deeper than the Mariana Trench, starting off slow but building up speed fast, getting closer to Mingyu with each verse spat out between gritted teeth. Mingyu licked his lips, bringing the microphone up as he began to rap over Wonwoo, starting where he left off, closing the gap between them with every word, pushing sweaty hair back through long, tan fingers.

_"And with every breath I can't even tell whether it's you or me, bodies entwined so tightly. I look at you and think you're an angel with a devil's smile, so take me to hell, it's not a sin if it's with you— "_

Their foreheads were nearly touching at this point, eyes locked on each others, every word shouted. Wonwoo lifted his microphone again, picking up where Mingyu left off.

_"Don't pull me in like that, I know I can't let go, you know I'll never leave, so let me go, you're sin dressed up in whites and creams, and every word's a knife of sunlight into my heart, so tell me you don't love me—"_

Mingyu pushed Wonwoo against one of the walls, (how they got there, Jeonghan didn't know) pushing his microphone down and replacing it with his lips, raking his long fingers through Wonwoo's dark hair as the microphones fell to the floor, screeches sounding that the two didn't notice.

Jeonghan's mouth fell open, turning to look at Seungcheol, who was equally shocked. "Get a room!" someone shouted — Mingyu flicked his middle finger in their direction without ever breaking contact with Wonwoo, one of Wonwoo's arms around Mingyu's neck, the other pulling Mingyu closer.

Jihoon stood up, and Jeonghan was  _sure_  he was going to grab Jisoo's guitar, but he heard Jisoo shout, "This is an audition, not your bedroom, so get the heck out!" before Jihoon could do anything, laughter rippling throughout the room.

Hesitantly, the two separated, Mingyu wrapping an arm protectively around Wonwoo's waist, Wonwoo's hand  _just a bit lower_.

Jeonghan stood up, gesturing for Jihoon to put the guitar down. He cleared his throat, trying to erase the images he was  _sure_  were burned into his brain at this point, and said, "Okay, look, if your rapping wasn't  _fucking_   _incredible_  I'd tell you guys to leave, but that was amazing, so both of you can stay."

Mingyu cheered, grabbing Wonwoo and kissing him again.

This time, Jeonghan didn't even bother telling Jihoon to put down the guitar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to be jeongcheol what happened
> 
> oh well have some aggresive meanie lmao  
> (and i knoW THEYRE SUPPOSED TO BE 'FALLING IN LOVE' NOT 'ALREADY IN LOVE' WHATEVER)


	9. help me

**_"you realize that we're the university equivalent of mortal enemies."_ **

Jihoon burst into Jisoo's dorm room, face flushed, glasses he rarely wore because they made his face look smaller slipping down the bridge of his nose, grin spreading across his face. "I got us a gig."

Jeonghan shrieked, causing Seungcheol to topple off of Jisoo's bed, shock on his face. "Where? Where?'

"It's a big one," he told them, heart fluttering with excitement. Jeonghan shrieked again, hands flying everywhere, and this time it was Mingyu that fell, right off of Wonwoo's lap and onto the floor's hard embrace. Jihoon whipped out his phone, showing them his most recent texts with Yoongi, and said with a flourish, "We get to open for Agust D at his next concert, in two weeks!"

Jeonghan literally  _could not_ get any louder, and instead settled for a silent scream that caused his face to turn red. Wonwoo joined Mingyu on the floor, glasses landing somewhere next to Jisoo, who dropped his guitar onto Seungcheol, who was  _still_  on the floor.

"How?" was the first thing out of Seungcheol's mouth, and the first thing any of them said. "How'd you get us an opening act at  _Agust D's_ concert?"

Jihoon gave him a smug smile. "Connections."

Jeonghan turned to Jihoon with a face full of awe, murmuring, "Never thought your stubborn brother would actually let us open for him."

Mingyu's head whipped around so fast Jihoon was sure he would get whiplash, and stage-whispered, "Agust D's your  _brother?"_

"I— uh— yeah." Jihoon smiled nervously, giving Mingyu the saddest jazz hands he'd ever seen. "Surprise?"

_"Surprise?"_ Mingyu's eyebrows were touching the tips of his dark hair. "If that's what you call a  _surprise_ , I'd hate to see what you call a miracle. That's the best motherfucking news of my life!"

"I think Seungcheol's hyperventilating," Jisoo said, peering into the gap between the two beds. "You good?"

Seungcheol had a hand over his heart, eyes wide.  _"Agust D?"_

"Uh, yeah?"

_"AGUST D????"_

"Yes..?"

Seungcheol shot up, grabbing Jihoon by the shoulders. "Your brother's  _Agust fucking D?!_ And you didn't tell me?"

"I literally met you yesterday," Jihoon deadpanned, "so it's not like I could've told you."

"Still!" Seungcheol's eyes were wide and glittering, long lashes catching the fluorescent light of the dorm. He bent down, whispering, "Do you think you can get me an autograph?"

**~= <^>=~**

"So you're asking me to choreograph a dance for you."

Jihoon pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, fidgeting nervously. "Um, yeah. Basically."

Soonyoung looked up from the textbook he'd been flipping through, pen dancing between his fingers. "You realize that we're the university equivalent of mortal enemies."

"Yeah."

"And that I've hated you since day one."

"Yeah."

Soonyoung sighed, pushing his chair back to stand up and face Jihoon. "Why in the  _world_  would I choreograph a dance for your  _silly_ ,  _amateur_ band?"

"Because," Jihoon took a deep breath, steeling his nerves, "my brother is Agust D, and we're opening for his next concert, and this would probably get you the exposure you need to professionally work with Hoseok."

Soonyoung froze, pen dropping from his fingertips to the worn carpet. Jihoon sighed. "I'll give you some time to process that, but yeah. Agust D's letting us open for him and we  _kinda_  need a dance, so of  _course_  I'd go to the best dancer I know for that kinda shit, like who would I be if I—"

"Stop."

Jihoon looked up, meeting Soonyoung's icy gaze. "Stop what?'

"Stop talking."

Jihoon blinked in surprise. "O-okay."

Soonyoung closed his eyes. "So you want me to choreograph a dance to one of your band's songs."

Jihoon nodded.

"And you would pay me and shit, and I get to go watch Agust D's concert for free?"

"I mean if that's what your conditions are—" Jihoon paused, hesitating once he saw Soonyoung's glare. "Yeah, okay, shutting up. Yeah."

They spent minutes there — or hours, the time seemed to drag on like molasses, thicker than the tension in the small dorm room — before Soonyoung finally spoke again, a sly smile making its way across his face. "You said I was the best dancer you know — if the prospects of choreographing for Agust D's concert didn't seal the deal, that definitely did."

"Actually?" Jihoon couldn't stop the grin that took over his face. "Thank you  _so_ much."

Soonyoung smirked. "You won't be thanking me later."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who doesn't love a good dose of filler hahahahahhahha *sweats nervously*
> 
> side note: these are all chapters that are ALREADY PUBLISHED on wattpad, which is why i'm updating so frequently. in about a week or two they will have caught up, though, which means that updates will come once a week rather than two or three times. 
> 
> don't be afraid to ask questions! i don't bite ^-^
> 
> feedback is very welcome and always appreciated!
> 
> ~aura <33


	10. love is a pain in the ass

**_"ooh, coconut bread—"_ **

_"Ughhhhh."_

Hansol chuckled, lips tugging up into a smile as Mingyu sat down, dark circles painting the skin beneath his eyes. "So either a living corpse came to our table or you're just really tired."

Mingyu yawned, long arms nearly knocking the glasses off a girl a few seats away. "Dude, you know how I joined a band?"

"Yeah, that's like  _all_  you talk about now."

"Well we got a gig opening for Agust D—"

Hansol choked on his soup, coughing and spluttering as a tired Mingyu watched. "Wait,  _Agust D?"_

"Yeah, I know, right?" Mingyu gave Hansol a grin, then continued, "But Jihoon made us learn a dance to go with the song we're doing and it's  _so hard,_ I felt like my  _arms_  were gonna  _fall off—"_

Hansol scoffed, wiping up soup on the table with a napkin. "Oh, come on, it couldn't have been that bad."

"No, dude," Mingyu looked at Hansol, all serious and solemn, "I couldn't feel my legs this morning. It was  _that_   _bad."_

Hansol shrugged, slurping up the noodles floating sadly in the broth. "I mean, you kinda chose this — not my problem if you quote unquote,  _can't feel your legs_."

"I didn't know we'd be  _dancing_ ," Mingyu said with a groan, finally opening up his lunch. "Ooh, coconut bread—"

Hansol's head snapped up at the mention of the sweet pastry, mumbling a 'hey, give me some!' around a mouthful of noodles. Mingyu raised it up above his head, using his lanky arms to keep it out of Hansol's reach.

"Ooh, coconut bread!" The pastry was plucked daintily from Mingyu's hands by none other than Boo Seungkwan, who was of course wearing that one snapback that had  _QUEEN_  written across the front in sequins.

"Hey, that's mine!" Mingyu pouted, reaching towards Seungkwan. "Give it back!"

"Um, peasants," Seungkwan said, "who gave you all cookies last week?" Mingyu's protests died down immediately, and even Hansol stopped his half-assed grabs for the sweet pastry. Seungkwan ripped open the wrapper, smug smile on his face, and said, "I thought so."

"Did we have physics homework?" Mingyu asked, peeling the wrapper off of a soggy-looking sandwich. His face screwed up in disgust, and he tossed the sandwich towards the trash can a few metres away, Hansol cheering when it lands in the can.

"I don't think so," Seungkwan replied — at the same time Hansol said yes, provoking a panicked look from Seungkwan. "Wait, we did? Hansol, why didn't you text me?"

"You have a planner!" Hansol said, hands flying up in disbelief. "I thought you used it!"

"You know I haven't opened that thing since the first day!" Seungkwan hissed back. "I've got study hall next — give me your work!"

"I've got physics next! Take Mingyu's!"

Seungkwan scoffed. "We all know Mingyu can't do physics to save his life. Give me your work."

Hansol shook his head.  _"I have physics next._  What part of that do you  _not understand?"_

"I can copy it now! Look!" Seungkwan rummaged around in his backpack before pulling out his (slightly wrinkled) physics homework, white page full of dark text but void of Seungkwan's flourishy script. "I've got it here!"

"I—" Hansol sighed, pulling a slightly more crumpled physics sheet out of his bag. "You've got ten minutes. Go."

Seungkwan beamed, shoving the rest of the coconut bun in his mouth. "Dude, you're actually the best holy fuck  _thank you ohmygod—"_

"No problem." Hansol smiled, and Seungkwan could feel his heart melting into his shoes.

**~= <^>=~**

Seungkwan was what he liked to call the "resident gay" of their high school. (Mingyu was gay, too, but really who was counting? In a high school, of course, there are gonna be more people straight that not, and Seungkwan was just glad to have another gay friend, even if said gay friend was always talking about his  _college boyfriend_.)

Which had its upsides, of course, like not being judged too much for his flourishy handwriting, or the way he'd more often than not wear sparkles and pink and bright, 'girly,' colours to school, and automatically being in on all of the gossip from all of the girls at school, but of course it had its downsides.

Seungkwan may have been an optimist, but even he knew that everything came with a downside.

In his case, that downside was crushing on his straight — let's emphasize that,  _straight_  — best friend of more than a decade. The downside was his heart jumping into his throat or melting down into the soles of his shoes whenever Hansol so much as  _smiled_ , stuttering painfully whenever Hansol would pull him closer on the worn-out couch in his living room, the only light coming from the television.

Maybe Seungkwan was a masochist, because whenever Hansol did anything  _remotely_  couple-y to him (which was often, seeing as they'd known each other since they were babies and their friendship had gone on for just as long) like let him eat some of whatever homemade food his mom sent with him, or playing with Seungkwan's hair in the halls before school started, the simple fact that they would never be a couple hit him like a ton of bricks.  _Every time_.

It hurt, but there was just enough pleasure in seeing Hansol so happy and using it to fuel more impossible fantasies about them being a couple for Seungkwan to bear through it.

And for the most part, Seungkwan was fine with it. Sure, it hurt to know that his feelings weren't reciprocated, but at least he and Hansol were still close. He was still Hansol's Most Important Person, and that was enough.

Of course, as soon as Seungkwan had come to terms with the ache in his chest every time Hansol laughed, Hansol went and got himself a girlfriend.

Which meant Seungkwan was no longer Hansol's Most Important Person.

That simple fact hurt more than a thousand days next to Hansol, or a thousand hours of domestic bliss, watching movies in Hansol's living room with all the lights off, blankets surrounding them until they don't know where they end and the other begins.

Seungkwan might have been a masochist, but this was  _too much._

Love was a pain in the ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: this is gonna be a nice, fluffy fanfic, no angst whatsoever  
> brain: write angst  
> me: why  
> brain: u gotta
> 
> so yeah have an angst tag


	11. dancer's high

**_"this is why I dance."_ **

 Minghao wiped the sweat from his forehead, downing half of his water bottle. He knew what he was getting himself into when he joined Bangtan Dance, but  _damn,_  did Hoshi work them hard. (He didn't even think he'd sweated this much during that one five hour practice Chan forced them all to do before their year-end performance last school year, and that was one  _hell_  of a practice.

"Good job today!" Hoshi yelled, clapping his hands. "See y'all here on Monday, 3:30 p.m. sharp!" A chorus of 'thank you's echoed around the room, exhausted dancers grabbing bags and exiting the room as quickly as their tired legs would allow.

"Your brother's picking up us, right?" Minghao asked, legs splayed across the floor. Chan nodded, belatedly placing his water bottle into his bag.

"Hey, uh— Chan, right?" Minghao looked up, catching a glimpse of Hoshi's bleached hair and blinding grn as he walked over

"Y-yeah?" Chan looked nervous — and honestly, Minghao couldn't blame him. Getting called out by the group's leader on the first day of practice? Never a good thing.

"So I saw that piece you choreographed for your school's dance club."

Okay, so maybe it was a good thing.

Chan blushed — he looked like a fucking tomato — and stammered out, "N-no, it wasn't just me, Minghao-hyung helped too, I, um, — "

Hoshi grinned, clapping his hands. "Perfect! Can you two stay for a bit — like an extra hour or two — right now?"

"Ah, um," Chan blanched, white quickly overtaking the red previously covering his face, "yeah, sure, just lemme—" he gestured weakly towards his bag " — lemme just text my brother to get me later."

Hoshi's smile slipped into a scowl, so quick that Minghao wasn't sure whether he really saw it, telling them, "No need," before heading over to the door of the studio, greeting a stream of people as they flooded in.

"What did he mean, no need—" Chan's face screwed up in confusion as Jihoon walked through the door. "Oh." He waved, shouting, "Hyung! Why're you here?"

Jihoon jogged over, looking done with the world. "Hey, Chan, hey Minghao — look, long story short Yoongi asked me to open for him at his concert in two weeks and now I've got to learn a dance number from  _Kwon fucking Soonyoung_  and let me tell you I am  _not happy_  with this  _at all_ , but I love Yoongi too much to say no so—" he shrugged " — here I am, struggling to dance with the dormmate I hate."

Minghao laughed, at both the sheer absurdity of the situation and Jihoon's never ending hatred for Hoshi. "I see your band has expanded a bit since I last saw it. New members?"

Jihoon sighed. "Yeah, Jisoo was dead set on the idea that we needed rappers so we've got three new rappers now, an' two of them make out every other practice so  _that's_  fun."

Minghao squinted at the three across the room, eyes widening in surprise once he got a good look at them — two people he didn't recognize, one with a stony stare and the other with the longest eyelashes Minghao had seen combined with what had the potential to become one of the sexiest faces he'd ever laid eyes on, and — "Hey, that's — I know him! Kim Mingyu! He's in my bio class at school, we all hate him 'cause he never puts away the equipment properly."

Jihoon froze, turning to Minghao with an incredulous look on his face. "Wait, Mingyu's only in high school?'

"Uh, yeah?"

Jihoon cursed, scowling. "Damn it, I always thought he was in uni already, what with his height an' shit— this was s'posed to only be open to uni students— god  _fucking_  dammit — "

One of the quirks that were never mentioned in front of Jihoon (lest they be chased by five feet and four inches of pure fury wielding an acoustic guitar) was that when he got frustrated his old accent came back, something he'd never been able to truly shake when he moved from a tiny town to the city. Even though the two places were in the same country, (heck, they were still in the same  _province_ ) Jihoon still never managed to shake the dialect completely, all soft consonants and drawn-out vowels, nothing like the harsh, clean sounds of the city. Of course, Jihoon hated it — anything that made him different was  _automatically_ a disadvantage, but he could never control the way his vowels lengthened when he was frustrated or tired enough.

"Jihoon! Get your tiny ass over here!"

Jihoon rolled his eyes. "Kwon fuckin' Soonyoung, thinking he's the shit, actin' all high an' mighty when really he ain't any better than anyone else here, fuckin' idiot—" Begrudgingly, he got up, Chan and Minghao close behind.

"So," Hoshi began once everyone was gathered, "I, Kwon Hoshi of Bangtan Dance, was hired to choreograph a performance piece for Angels, the band standing before you today, since they're opening for Agust D in two weeks. Crazy, am I right?" He cracked a smile, letting them chuckle a bit for continuing. "I don't run Bangtan alone, though, and Jimin already helps Agust D, so Angels, these people here—" he gestured to the dancers, including Chan and Minghao, " — are gonna help me choreograph for everyone. Get a fresh take on everything, y'know?"

Minghao's head snapped towards Hoshi. "Wait, me too?'

Hoshi rolled his eyes, giving Minghao a good-natured grin. "Well, no shit Sherlock — you're here, right?"

"R-right."  _Damn it, Chan, why'd you tell him I helped you —_

"So, the six of us will run through the dance routine once, and then we'll begin to teach it to you." Hoshi gave the rest of them a pleasant smile, pushing his headband up a fraction of an inch as he asked, "Any questions?"

Minghao raised his hand hesitantly. "And I apparently  _know_  this dance already?"

The corner of Hoshi's lips tugged upwards into a smirk, and he replied, "Remember the dance I've been teaching you guys for the past few practices?" When Minghao gave him a hesitant nod, Hoshi continued, "Well, that's their choreo! I was thinking we could just change things as we went, you know, adjust to their skill and for when they have to sing and everything, but yeah?" His smirk changed into something Minghao could only describe as purely evil, and he clapped his hands once, startling everyone in the room. "Let's  _gogogo!"_

The music started up, the six of them taking up their positions in the middle of the dance floor. The first thing Minghao realized (aside from the fact that Hoshi was smooth as fuck, holy heck, teaching the choreo team the actual choreo and masquerading it as a practice) was that the reason he wasn't familiar with the song was because it hadn't been released officially. The dance came to him easily, hours of practice ingrained into his body as the music flowed through the room. The voice he now recognized as Jihoon's crooned softly through the speakers, his high, sweet voice syncing up near-perfectly with the flowing moves of Hoshi's choreography.

The tone of the song did a complete one-eighty when the rapping started, the same prominent bass line that Jihoon sung so sweetly to resonating easily with the deep voice of the rapper, something full of anger and hurt completely changing the song. It was different from what Minghao normally listened to, or heard on the radio, and if he was going to be honest he actually liked it a lot.

The chorus came through, the harmonies syncing with the piano and the soft strumming of the guitar, and somehow it sounded just as broken as the rapping, but somehow just as soft as Jihoon's singing, the lyrics weaving beautiful metaphors that bloomed like flowers in spring as Minghao danced —  _turn, pop-and-hit, melt on the bass, slide into formation_ — and that warm feeling Minghao always got when he danced came back.

Eventually, the music came to an end, a final bass matched with one harmony and then Jihoon's sweet voice again, and Minghao could finally stop, heart pounding and breath caught in his throat, euphoria flooding through him in harsh waves.  _This,_  he thought, dizzy with what Hoshi always called the dancer's high,  _this is why I dance._

Minghao's eyes went to the small crowd sitting against the mirrors at the front of the studio, and he couldn't help but grin at the way Jeonghan's mouth was hanging open, and the way that new, doe-eyed rapper's eyes were glazed over, a small, content smile on his face.

"So," Hoshi said, slightly breathless, readjusting the snapback sitting snugly over his bleached hair, "what do you guys think?"

Mingyu's hand shot up, something akin to indignation on his tan face. The minute Hoshi gestured to him, he turned to Jihoon, pulling the one with round glasses in front of him as a shield. "You mean the combo we learned the other day  _wasn't the actual thing we're dancing_ , and instead we have to learn  _whatever the hell they just did up there."_

Hoshi shrugged. "I mean, basically."

A fire was lit in Mingyu's dark eyes, and he spat out a small 'you're dead, Lee Jihoon,' before glaring at him.

Jihoon's response was to chase Mingyu out of the studio, Jisoo's guitar firmly in his hand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this was mostly filler but tbh im not even surprised


	12. crazy in love

**_"past, present and future_** —  ** _crazy in love, crazy in love"_**

"What's her name?"

Hansol looked up, mouth full of soup and noodles. "Who?"

Seungkwan scrunched his nose up. "Don't talk with your mouth full. Your girlfriend."

Hansol slurped up all the noodles, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. "Her name's Sungyeon."

"She sounds... cute."

Seungkwan wanted to slap himself — the minute he said 'cute,' Hansol's face lit up, giving him that adorable puppy-like look that had Seungkwan's heart melting into his toes. "Ohmygod dude, she's the  _cutest lil' thing I swear_  she's got the cutest, chubbiest cheeks and when I confessed — and when we had our first date — she was wearing these overalls with a yellow shirt underneath with pigtails and I swear I almost  _died_ with how cute she is—"

"I get it," Seungkwan grumbled, stuffing his sandwich into his mouth, "she's cute."

"Who's cute?" Mingyu slipped into the seat next to Seungkwan, pulling his own lunch onto the table.

"Hansolie's new  _girlfriend~_ ," Seungkwan cooed, wincing inwardly at the way venom seeped into his words.

"Oh, then I guess I'll have to get an extra ticket for her," Mingyu mused, pulling out a steamed bun and yet another coconut bread. "I hope Jihoon-hyung doesn't get mad at me again — it's not my fault I have way more friends than him."

"Ticket for what?"

Seungkwan slapped the back of Hansol's head. "Aish, don't talk with your mouth full! It's gross!"

"For the upcoming Agust D concert," Mingyu said, all blase and casual, not noticing the way Hansol almost choked on his noodles, or the way Seungkwan's creeping hand stopped on its way to steal Mingyu's coconut bread.

"How'd you get tickets?" Hansol hissed once he'd stopped choking. "To an  _Agust D concert?_ "

"Oh, did I forget to mention? The group I joined is opening for Agust D in a few days. The leader of the band — the name is Angels, isn't that cute —is Agust D's brother."

Hansol's eyes were wider than saucers at this point, noodles all but forgotten. (The same could be said for Seungkwan and his quest for the coconut bread.) "And we get tickets?"

"I mean, Jihoon-hyung did say we could bring up to 4 friends since it's his brother's concert — I think he said you guys would get backstage passes too?" Mingyu frowned into his steamed bun. "Not really sure though. Minghao's coming too, though, so you won't be the only high schoolers there."

"Dude," Hansol said, and Seungkwan was worried he was going to start hyperventilating. Hansol's smile was  _miles_  wide, stretching nearly to his ears. "Agust D has been my role model since he debuted and you're telling I can not only  _see him in concert_  but also  _meet him in person_ , and  _get his autograph_?"

"I mean, basically?"

Hansol hugged Mingyu so hard Seungkwan was sure his ribs almost broke. "Dude, you have no idea how much I love you right now."

"I— I think I do—" Mingyu gasped, trying to free himself from Hansol's vice grip (to no avail).

Seungkwan rolled his eyes, taking a bite out of Mingyu's coconut bread. His friends really were idiots sometimes.

**~= <^>=~**

Soonyoung firmly believed that everything, even the craziest, most outlandish things, had a chance to come true, no matter how small that chance was. Which was why he was shocked — but pleasantly surprised — when he found himself at the front of an Agust D concert, about to watch a dance that  _he choreographed_  on a real live stage, and then get to watch and meet Agust D for free.

He writhed in his seat, full of energy (both nervous and excited) until the Angels — Jeonghan, Jisoo, Mingyu, Wonwoo, the one whose name he always forgot but acted like a dad, and Jihoon — made their way onto the stage, mics wrapping around the right side of their faces, clad in white silk shirts with long sleeves that seemed to float with every movement and ripped black jeans that were probably showing off just a bit too much thigh to be publically acceptable. 

The song that Jihoon had written wasn't too slow, and it wasn't too fast — it just flowed, high vocals mixing with killer rapping and a bassline that sent shocks up Soonyoung's spine every time they played the too-loud music through the speakers of the studio. 'Crazy in Love' was what they called it — apparently the song was actually supposed to be much slower and softer, (or so Chan told him) but they changed it around so that it would fit a bit more with Agust D's overall vibe and incorporate the rappers better.

The initial beat began to play through the large speakers, Soonyoung's choreography making its way onto the stage. Admittedly, Soonyoung and the rest of Bangtan Dance was better, but considering none of them had any dance experience whatsoever, they were fairly in sync. The fans — who came here expecting a spitfire rapper and were greeted with a soft pop band — were surprisingly energetic, screaming enthusiastically with every cool jump or flirtatious look they were given by the six on the stage.

They reached the chorus, a high-energy, exciting bit, Jeonghan taking the first few lines. Soonyoung had to give himself credit — the moves were smooth yet sharp, hitting hard on the beats yet flowing softly from one to another. Jeonghan pushed his bangs away from his face by running a hand through them — yet another move that had the fangirls screaming. Soonyoung couldn't help but crack a grin — he was excited that his choreography was getting so much attention.

Suddenly — yet smoothly — the chorus and focus transitioned over to Jihoon, who sang it in a strong, clear voice with a smirk on his small face. Soonyoung wanted to scowl — he really did — but seeing his choreo on stage still amazed him, and his smile stayed stuck on his face. On the stage, all of them except for Jihoon bent down, sliding smoothly to the next formation  _(ah, Mingyu was half a count late)_  while Jihoon did something that Soonyoung  _hadn't choreographed_  — one hand in the pocket of his jeans, the other swaying freely, he swung his hips side to side, a foot with a daintily pointed toe moving with it as he made his way backwards, where Jisoo then took over.

"Hey, hyung," Minghao whispered from beside him, a playful grin on his face. "You might want to shut your mouth. Don't want any bugs flying in, do we?"

Soonyoung found that his mouth was, in fact, hanging open, and he shut it quickly, swallowing hard. That—

He'd known Jihoon was cute, by most standards, but that — that was positively sinful. The farthest thing from cute. (And if Soonyoung hadn't found Jihoon hot before then, he definitely did now.) 

The chorus came flying back in, after quick rap from Wonwoo, and again, Jihoon was swaying his shoulders to the beat, a small, delicate foot following those sinful hips and thin, dainty legs. Jihoon looked up — straight at Soonyoung, it seemed — and licked his lips as Jeonghan reclaimed the chorus, smirking playfully as he walked towards the back of the stage.

The third repetition of the chorus swung in heavily, after Mingyu's rap, which was full of heavy gazes and winks that had the girls behind him screaming so loudly he was sure he was permanently deaf. And now Soonyoung regretted putting those hip thrusts and body rolls into the choreography because that soft, round face didn't look cute anymore — it was a national weapon and needed to be stopped. The way Jihoon was gazing into the audience made Soonyoung want to scream or hit something or both at the same time, and he was sure his mouth was hanging open again but he honestly didn't care.

The song came to a close, ending nearly as quickly as it had begun, and Agust D took to the stage, reminding Soonyoung of the reason they were there in the first place.

(To be honest, he was smitten with Jihoon — enough to forget about the famous rapper.)

One thing was for sure —

Kwon Soonyoung was totally, completely, irrevocably,  _crazily_  in love. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so this was highkey based off of the 'crazy in love' choreo video and just that song in general  
> and soonyoung is basically just me, a jihoon stan, screaming forever about how it cant really be possible that someone that cute can actually be sexy enough to make me want to die
> 
> this is really self-indulgent and we were supposed to dive into the angst what happened
> 
> (side note: hansol's gf in this fic, bae sungyeon, is a part of PRISTIN, a girl group also under pledis. they're really talented and i advise you to check them out!)
> 
> feedback is much appreciated and always welcome!
> 
> ~ aura <333


	13. sweet lies

**_"college parties are wild,"_ **

_'naegahosh has logged in'_

****group chat: we dem (dance) bois** **

**naegahosh  
** guYS HELP

**moonhui**  
did u kill som1

**naegahosh  
** what no

**moonhui  
** then leave me in peace  
im suffering and id rather u not interrupt ok thanks

**naegahosh  
** well ok then  
everyone except junhui heLP  
wait  
leADER TAKING ROLL CALL

**soft™  
** im here and im queer

**naegahosh  
** we knew that but ok

**bunny boi  
** herewAIT WHO THE FCUK CHAKNDE MY NAEM TO BUNNT BOI

**the8 (wants to d8)  
** not me  
i will murder whoever changed my name  
also im here but like,,,,  
i figured youd get that

**new maknae  
** here  
and a secret savage  
take that hyungs

**naegahosh  
** ooh channie showing his true colours  
change it back tho

_new maknae changed bunny boi's name to goldengguk_

_new maknae changed the8 (wants to d8)'s name to the8_

**new maknae  
** ur not any fun :'(

**naegahosh  
** anyway we're here to address my gay crisis  
pan crisis  
wahtever  
wait fukc

_naegahosh has removed new maknae from the chat_

**naegahosh  
** jihoons his brother rite

**the8  
** yeet

**naegahosh  
** k hes staying out till we're done  
why  
bc i have the biggest fuckign crush on lee jihoon  
and i dont need no bbay spililgn the beans

**soft™  
** waIT YOU HAVE A CTUSH ON JIGOON  
HOLY FCUK BRB

**naegahosh  
** so what do i do u fucks

**moonhui  
** well u hatefuck obvs

**naegahosh  
** i thought u said u werent helpign

**moonhui  
** well yeah but then i smelled drama

**goldengguk  
** how does one smell drama

**moonhui  
** u just do ok  
anywAYS u gotta hatefuck  
and then u catch feelings and its awkward  
but then everythingll be good

**naegahosh  
** why the fuck do u kno this shit

**the8  
** i bet he reads fluffy fanfic on his phone  
this is like  
every enemies to lovers trope ever

**naegahosh  
** the fuck is a fanfic

**moonhui  
** GASP

**the8  
** hyung

**moonhui  
** /G A S P/

**the8  
** hyung dont corrupt him im too young for this shit

**naegahosh  
** no actually  
the fuck is a fanfic

**the8  
** irrelevant

**moonhui  
** ok a plan for our dear soonyoungie  
bascially  
jihoons a hrony drunk so just play off that  
use the party to ur advantage

**naegahosh  
** ok  
wATI WHAT ISF HE DOSNTE LEKI ME BCAK

**goldengguk  
** how does one fuck up a sentence that badly

**soft™  
** dont worry  
i'll take care of that u just worry abt seducing jihoonie

**naegahosh  
** WILL TIHS EEVN WROK

**the8  
** hyung ur caps lock is still on

**naegahosh  
** I KONW

**moonhui  
** i mean theres like a 65% cahnce it will

**naegahosh  
** i really need new friends

_Read 9:36 pm_

**~= <^>=~**

**soft™  
** babe  
babe  
babe  
bABE

**shooga  
** stop spamming my phone im at teh studio

**soft™  
** oh u changed ur name  
noice

**shooga  
** it was jihoon

**soft™  
** shoulda known  
anywAYS  
u said jihoon likes soonie right

**shooga  
** yea  
y u askin

**soft™  
** soonie just spammed the gc abt his 'pan crisis'  
and appranetly he likes jihoon bcak  
so plan get the donsaegns to fuck is a go

**shooga  
** perfect  
i'll see u at the part yrite

**soft™  
** yep  
bye babe love ya <3

**shooga  
** love u too

_Read 9:34 pm_

**~= <^>=~**

Strictly speaking, Seungkwan wasn't a party person.

Sure, he got invited to them (being the resident gay had its perks, which usually resulted in being called in by his female friends to be their date when they couldn't snag a guy for whatever party was being hosted that week) but he never went — movie nights with Hansol in the basement were more than sufficient.

And yet, he found himself at a party (and a  _college party_ , at that) with a bottle of beer in his hand and was currently watching Agust D ( _Agust D)_  make out with one of the Bangtan Dance members.

"College parties are  _wild_ ," he whispered, and the lanky man beside him snorted.

"You think  _this_ is wild?" the man asked, something between incredulity and condescension on his chiseled face. "You've obviously never been to a party. Let me tell you, this one time I—"

"Don't corrupt my friends," Minghao interrupted, thrusting a bottle of beer towards the man. (Seungkwan couldn't help but be shocked by Minghao's words — he'd only ever known him in passing, through Mingyu and Minghao's cousin, Jieqiong, who he sat next to in math — so were they really friends?) "I'm not drunk enough for this."

"But you've never been drunk before," the man pointed out, taking a long swig from the amber bottle, a growing smirk prominent on his face.

"Better now than ever," Minghao grumbled, knocking back his own large gulp of beer.

Seungkwan shrugged — what better time to get drunk than a college party — and took a large sip from his own glass bottle, sides slick with condensation. The taste wasn't particularly pleasant, but he swallowed it anyways. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Hansol's red flannel — he was on the couch, red solo cup in his hands, and his cheeks were flushed — slightly, but enough for Seungkwan to realize that he was probably tipsy.  _Cute_ , he thought, a small smile spreading across his cheeks before he could stop it.  _Hansolie's just so cute._

And then he saw Sungyeon.

Admittedly, she was cute as well — round, squishy cheeks, auburn hair (not that different from Seungkwan's), an oversized pink sweater with acid-washed skinny jeans — but that wasn't what caught his attention.

She was sitting on Hansol's lap, knees on either side of his hips, a solo cup in her hand. And Hansol wasn't weirded out by it. Heck, he was  _enjoying_ it. Sungyeon was straight up  _straddling_ him on someone's couch at a college party, just past tipsy, and he was fucking  _enjoying it_.

Seungkwan had never felt a grin slip off his face as fast as it did then.

"Dude, you good?" he heard Minghao say, but it was muffled, like he was underwater — separated from everyone, in a different space in a different time.

"Yeah," he replied, but even to his own ears he sounded too breathless and shaky to really be telling the truth. "Yeah, I'm good."

Inwardly, he was rolling his eyes — of course he wasn't fucking fine. Who would be, after seeing this? The boy he fell in love with being straddled by his shiny new girlfriend at a party while he stood here on the sidelines, pathetic and forever alone.

"Seungkwan — you're crying, there's no way you're fine."

Seungkwan turned his head to Minghao so fast he heard something crack in his neck, shooting him a glare full of daggers. "I'm fine," he hissed, hot tears dripping down his face, voice cracking dangerously on 'fine.' "I'm fucking  _fine_ , okay, so leave me alone."

Seungkwan stalked towards the door, not even bothering to throw on his jacket before opening the door, crisp autumn air hitting his bare arms. He heard Minghao call out behind him, but he didn't look back, walking faster and faster until he was sprinting in the dead of the night, path illuminated only by the harsh white glare of the streetlights. He cursed under his breath, running across the street without bothering to look, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, feet snagging on the untied lace of his red converse.

He heard the car before he saw it — a long horn, harsh and blaring in the silence of the night. His head turned automatically, but all he caught was the light from the bright headlights before something rammed into his ribs, hard, sending him flying backwards until he landed on the street, the glare of the streetlights catching his eyes. The car screeched to a stop, inches from his face, and he heard a car door open and slam shut, someone frantically shouting into a phone. Seungkwan couldn't help but laugh at how suddenly, everything in his life decided to crumble. His breath wheezed out of weak lungs, clouding white in the cold air.

His head tilted to the side, eyes closing as the pain rushed up his body. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing if he died here.

The ambulance arrived then, all loud sirens and flashing lights that burned his eyes, even while they were shut, and he felt another tear trickle down his face. The universe wasn't even going to let him die in peace, was it?

Seungkwan kept saying he was fine, that everything was fine, but even he knew that all he was doing was feeding them sweet lies. 


	14. in the stars

"It's okay, just let him leave."

Minghao turned to Junhui, distress written across his soft face. "What do you mean  _just let him leave_? He's gonna — I don't know, do something stupid, I can't just let him  _leave_!"

Junhui rolled his eyes, taking a large swig of the beer Minghao had shoved into his hands not even ten minutes prior. "Look, from my experience, when you try to keep someone at a party and they don't want to be there, it brings down the rest of the party. So just let him leave, okay?'

Minghao glared at Junhui. "I'm gonna follow him," he said, turning to run towards the door.

Something trapped his wrist — it was Junhui, holding Minghao's arm in a steely grip. "Like hell you are."

"He could get hurt!" Minghao hissed, trying (and failing) to pull his arm away. "He could — I don't know, get hit by a car or something! I can't just  _let him leave_!"

"He's a grown fucking adult," Junhui retorted, grip on Minghao's wrist tightening, "and he doesn't need you watching over him like a babysitter. Let him leave."

Minghao clenched his jaw, reluctantly turning back to Junhui. "Fine."

Junhui grabbed a beer from the table by the door, handing it to Minghao. "I'm assuming you lost your other beer somewhere when you decided to run, so here."

Minghao accepted it (reluctantly, of course) and used the side of the vase sitting on the table to pull the cap off, taking a long swig. He'd never gotten drunk before, but of course there was going to be beer at high school parties, which Jieqiong dragged him to despite his protests. (Something about her needing a date to the party and Minghao was the only suitably hot guy that would ever come with her. Not willingly, of course, but she'd learned the fine art of blackmail from none other than the best, meaning Minghao had to come or all those embarrassing childhood photos would be leaked onto the Internet forever.) (Minghao really regretted teaching her how to blackmail.)

A few hours and many beers later, Minghao was possibly drunk and definitely past tipsy. He and Junhui had made it to the roof somehow — Jimin didn't even have a top level apartment, what the fuck — and for some reason they were trying to make out the constellations in the light-polluted sky.

"That's the fucking Big Dipper," Junhui slurred, pointing somewhere up in the sky that was definitely nowhere near north, and nowhere  _near_  close to the Big Dipper.

"That's... I don't know, fucking Cassiopeia or some shit, you fucknut," Minghao shot back, hitting Junhui lightly on the head. "The Big Dipper's that way." His arm swung wildly towards what he hoped was north. (There was a bright star there — wasn't the north star the brightest one? And wasn't the north star part of the Big Dipper?)

"Is that Orion?"

Minghao squinted into the inky blackness above, millions and millions of stars spread out before him. "Where?"

"Like, up and to the right—" Junhui groaned, grabbing the sides of Minghao's head and pointing it the way he wanted. "There. That's Orion, right?"

Minghao caught his breath — Junhui's hands were soft on his cheeks, fingers threading lightly through his hair. He was surprisingly gentle, so very different from the loud, brash Junhui that would smirk at Minghao as he body rolled in dance practice, from the Junhui that would flirt with any human within a five-metre radius, from the Junhui that would call Minghao a fairy in Mandarin and tell him he was too soft for Hoshi's "sexy choreo."  _This was the real Junhui_ , he thought somewhere in his muddled mind, something alighting in his chest.

He liked this Junhui.

"I think you've finally found a constellation," Minghao said, words barely audible in the brisk autumn air. "Congratulations."

Junhui grinned, hands falling from Minghao's face and down into his lap. "See? I told you I could do it!" He laughed, and it was high and sweet and sounded like a star falling from the sky.

Minghao was suddenly struck by how much he wanted Junhui to leave his hands on his face, to hear him laugh like that forever. "You're really soft when you're drunk," he commented idly, alcohol loosening his tongue as well as his self-control.

"Soft?"

"Like, you're sweet and kind and so different from practice, y'know?" Minghao grinned at Junhui, pale skin turned silver in the starlight. "You're like a whole different person."

"Maybe this is the real me," Junhui whispered, so soft that Minghao had to strain to catch the words as they flew off his tongue. "Maybe I just want cuddles and ice cream dates. Maybe I want to go on picnics instead of just banging someone and never knowing their name."

"I could take you on picnics," Minghao found himself saying, surprising himself as much as Junhui. "I could buy you ice cream. I could be that someone that cuddles you instead of banging you and leaving."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, eyes locked on one another's. A wind blew in, ruffling Junhui's hair and ghosting along Minghao's skin. "Y'know," Junhui said, breaking the silence (but not Minghao's gaze), "I'm kind of in the mood for an ice cream."

Minghao laughed, rolling his eyes. "It's like,  _midnight,_ and you want ice cream?"

Junhui shrugged, giving Minghao a small grin. "I mean, it's never too late for ice cream."

Heart fluttering, Minghao grabbed Junhui's hand, standing up before pulling Junhui with him. "I think there was a convenience store a couple blocks down," he said, and the grin Junhui gave him was worth the ten dollars he'd be missing by the end of the night.

They left quickly, without telling anyone — Jihoon and Hoshi were nowhere to be found, he was pretty sure Jimin and Agust D were fucking in Jimin's bedroom, Jeonghan was getting his hair braided — and walked together, Junhui's hand still in Minghao's. The air was brisk — it  _was_  mid-autumn, after all — but Junhui's hand was warm, so it didn't really matter.

"I want chocolate ice cream," Junhui said, swinging their hands back and forth between them.

"I like stra—" Minghao stopped, Junhui turning to him in concern. "That's— there's an ambulance there."

"It's probably nothing," Junhui said, but even his voice was shaking. Minghao gripped Junhui's hand tighter, pulling him towards the flashing lights and the weird stain in the middle of the road.

A police officer came up to them, tall and imposing. "What are you kids doing out so late at night?"

"Getting ice cream," Minghao responded honestly, trying to peer around the man's broad shoulders. "What happened here?'

"Car accident," the man replied gruffly, turning around. "Some kid got hit by a car."

Worry, cold and icy, slithered down Minghao's back, his heart falling into his stomach. "Do you know what they looked like?"

"Let me ask." The police officer called someone over — the owner of the car? — and asked them what the kid looked like.

"Uh— reddish-brown hair, round cheeks — he was wearing a snapback with 'queen' in pink sparkles, what the heck — and he didn't have a jacket, for some reason."

Minghao inhaled shakily. "Did he give you a name?"

The owner frowned. "I think I overheard him telling the paramedics his name was Seungkwan."

Minghao turned to Junhui, face frozen in shock and worry. "Junhui, that's the kid I tried to stop from leaving the party."

Junhui gripped Minghao's hand tighter, then pulled him into a run. "We're going to the hospital, and we're gonna make sure he's okay. Okay?" he shouted over the slapping of their feet on the pavement and the wind rushing in their ears.

Minghao nodded, too shocked to do anything but blindly follow Junhui.  _Let him be okay._ Please _let him be okay._

_I don't know what I'll do if he's not okay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so we probably won't see what happened to seungkwan for another two updates,,,,  
> (look iM SORRY OKAY DON'T KILL ME)
> 
> but side note: thank you all for over 1.7K hits and over a hundred kudos!! this means so much to me as a new author, especially on my first work for this fandom!! so thank you all for taking time to read and comment and support me - it always makes my day. ^-^


	15. truth or dare

**_"never expected you to be the type to like fun,"_ **

"Let's play truth or dare,"

Strictly speaking, Jihoon hated parties.

(He hated people too, but that kind of tied in with the whole 'hating parties' thing.)

It was always too loud. There were always drunk people everywhere, singing or dancing or playing some sort of party game. There were always party games.

And with all of this, there were always the  _people_  that wanted to  _play_  said party games.

(On the plus side, there was always enough alcohol that Jihoon would forget what had happened the next day — alcohol was honestly the only reason he went.)

 _Of course_ Jeonghan _would want to play truth or dare,_ Jihoon thought, frowning into a cup of something — it was fruity and had a shit ton of vodka in it, but hey, at least it tasted fairly okay — watching surreptitiously as Jeonghan pulled people in from across the room, arranging them into a neat little circle in the middle of the living room.  _Soonyoung_  — even his thoughts dripped in disgust at his name — Seungcheol, Mingyu, Wonwoo, Jimin, Yoongi, Jeongguk, Chan — who thankfully had a cup of Sprite instead of beer or other  _questionable_  drinks—

Jihoon's frown grew, taking another sip of the fruity drink. Junhui and Minghao weren't there, and neither was Seungkwan. (Although, truth be told, he didn't really care where any of them had gone — they were grown-ass men, and he could trust that they wouldn't be dead at the end of the night.)

"Jihoonie! Come play truth or dare with us!" Jeonghan latched onto Jihoon's wrist, dragging him into the centre of the room despite his protests. He sat down with a sigh, muttering 'I told you to stop calling me Jihoonie' into his drink.

Jihoon looked around — Mingyu was across the circle from him, thank  _god_ (the last thing he wanted was Mingyu's lanky arms hitting him in the face as he wheeled them around to emphasize whatever point he was expressing at the moment) and so was Seungcheol, Chan was beside him, and—

Fuck.

Sat next to him was none other than  _Kwon fucking Soonyoung_ , in all his asshole-ish glory, sporting his own cup of questionable combinations of liquor and whatever else Jimin pulled out of his apartment fridge.

"Why hello there," Soonyoung slurred, shooting Jihoon a small smirk. "Never expected you to be the type to like fun."

"I  _definitely_  expected you to like stereotypical white-girl drinking games," Jihoon shot back, "so who's the real winner here? Spontane— spontanienety — fuck—" —Jihoon's tongue did not seem to be working with him today— "Spontaneity or predictableness?"

"Don't you mean predictability?" Soonyoung raised an eyebrow alongside the corners of his lips, taking a sip from his cup.

"Yeah— that."

Shouts from the rest of the circle drew them out of the comfortable rhythm of their banter — Yoongi was sitting on Jimin's back as he did several pushups, the rest of them screaming "Ten! Eleven! Twelve!" with each pushup. Jihoon joined them, counting until Jimin collapsed and clapping at his prowess after.

Jimin sat up, face red. "Okay, um... Soonyoung, truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"So you're a wimp as well as an asshole, nice to know," Jihoon muttered under his breath. (Obviously not quietly enough, though, because Soonyoung turned to shoot him a glare as soon as the word 'asshole' had left his lips.)

Jimin's cheery smile turned into something near-devilish — something Jihoon expected to see on Jeonghan's face rather than Jimin's. "Soonyoungie," he crooned, high voice sweet as the grin on his face spread further, "if you could fuck anyone in the circle, who would it be?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Jihoon saw Soonyoung turn seven different shades of red in two seconds. His Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped, and—  _fuck._ (Jihoon didn't want to admit that Soonyoung was hot, but he was wearing a leather jacket and his hair had been dyed a dark purple and his eyes were lined with dark pencil and  _holy fuck_  was he hot.)

"Don't even think about lying~" Jimin continued, singsong voice a ridiculous contrast to the positively  _evil_  expression on his face. "Remember that conversation we had on the group chat— oh, a few hours ago?"

Jihoon could've sworn that even Jeongguk's face, still round with baby fat, broke into a grin much to similar to Jimin's. He took a sip of his drink, lips twitching into the beginnings of a smirk at what could inevitably be blackmail material later on (if he managed to remember this tomorrow, that is).

Soonyoung gulped again, face going from red to white in seconds. "Uh, I mean, um—" he turned to his left, and—  _fuck_ , his eyes had met Jihoon's— "Jihoon, I guess?"

Jihoon felt drops of his drink latch onto the sides of his windpipe, red liquid flying out of his mouth and staining the worn carpet. "I'm sorry—  _what?_ "

Jimin let out a laugh, high pitched and sweet, throwing his body onto Yoongi as his lips twisted upwards. Yoongi had a sly little grin on his face — Jihoon sent a glare his way, which only made his grin grow wider.

"Don't make me say it again," Soonyoung whined, covering his face with his hands. "Fuck, just — Mingyu, truth or dare?"

Jihoon didn't hear Mingyu's response, turning on Soonyoung with a glare. "What— I thought you hated me?"

Soonyoung elected to ignore Jihoon, instead giving Mingyu a dare that involved doing shots against Seungcheol, for some reason — Seungcheol won, no question about it — avoiding Jihoon's gaze until Yoongi was given a dare that included freestyle rapping, for some reason. (Not that Yoongi wasn't good at it — he was incredible, somehow still matching the beat that they pulled out of his phone and keeping his sentences coherent.)

Yoongi finished the rap with a grin on his face, cheeks flushed red from the combined influences of rapping (which was basically a drug to Yoongi), alcohol (which is a drug) and Jimin (which to Yoongi is a drug). "Okay," he said, slightly out of breath, "Jihoonie—"

"No."

Yoongi pouted. (For a rapper, he was pretty cute, even if he tried to deny it.) "I didn't even say anything!"

"No."

"You gotta do it," Jeonghan screeched from across the circle, toppling over into Seungcheol's lap. "It's the rules of the game, Hoonie!"

"I never said I was playing!" he shot back.

"You sat down! That means you're playing!"

However flawed Jeonghan's logic was, Jihoon had learned early on in their (rather sad) friendship that it was just easier to give in to whatever ridiculous demand he had at the time. "Fine, just — this is the  _only_  question I'm answering, okay?"

"Jihoonie," Yoongi said, "who would  _you_  fuck in the circle?"

If Jihoon had a superpower, he would want it to be being able to actually cut someone with his glares, because the glare he was giving Yoongi would've at least been a solid broadsword. "You're planning something, aren't you?"

Yoongi tried to look innocent, but a telltale lifting of his lips gave him away. "What?  _Nooooo._ "

Jihoon rolled his eyes. "Oh, fuck off." He stared Yoongi right in the eyes, trying to convey something along the lines of  _you're fucking dead later_  (which, judging by the fear that spread across Yoongi's face, seemed to work). "It's Soonyoung." Jihoon downed the rest of his drink, standing up and throwing the red cup at Yoongi's head. "Happy, you meddling hyung?"

He didn't even want to look at Soonyoung, but judging by Jimin's reaction (he was on the floor again, laughing so hard his face was turning red) it must've been something worth watching. Jihoon walked towards the kitchen, already wondering what other types of alcohol Jimin had in his fridge and the liquor cabinet he knew was just to the right of the stove.

He was gonna need a  _lot_  more alcohol to get through the night.


	16. give and take

**_"you look really pretty tonight,"_ **

"Come on, let's go home."

Jihoon's head was full of cotton. But like, heavy cotton. Cotton rocks? He frowned. Maybe. Nothing really made sense anymore.

"How much did you have to drink?" Jihoon stumbled — on what, he didn't know.

"Enough," he said, hiccuping halfway through the word. He looked up, and — oh. It was Soonyoung. ( _Fucking Kwon Soonyoung_ , a voice shouted somewhere in his hair, but he couldn't really hear it over his other thoughts, which were loud and annoying and kind of made his head hurt.) His purple hair was disheveled, eyeliner smudged, and he'd somehow lost his leather jacket, but he still looked  _really_ hot. "You look really pretty tonight."

"You're drunk, you don't mean that," Soonyoung replied, tugging at Jihoon's arm until it went limp enough for him to throw it around his shoulders, half-dragging him out the door and into the elevator.

"But I do," Jihoon protested, trying to get his feet to work. "Where are we going?" The floor swayed under his feet, and he stumbled, falling into Soonyoung's side and getting a mouthful of cotton. (Objectively, he didn't really mind the fact that he almost couldn't breathe — the shirt smelled of something dark and musky, but also sweet somehow. Whatever it was, it smelled like Soonyoung, and that was good enough for Jihoon.)

"Dorm," Soonyoung said simply, pulling Jihoon out of the elevator as soon as the door opened. He staggered unevenly towards the front door of the complex, thanking the gods that the secretary wasn't there. "We're lucky it's only a block away."

The street was quiet, the autumn air brisk — Jihoon was cold in his sweatshirt and jeans, he didn't get how Soonyoung could be absolutely fine in just a t-shirt — but the walk was quick and soon the warmth of the dorm building was enveloping them, seeping into Jihoon's bones with every passing second. Soonyoung dragged him towards another elevator, smashing the button furiously before waiting. After a few minutes (in which the elevator doors did nothing but stay shut) Soonyoung huffed out a sigh, then began to pull Jihoon towards the rickety stairs at the back of the lobby.

"Elevator," he slurred into Soonyoung's shoulder, tripping on the carpet. "Why not the elevator?"

"It's not working," was Soonyoung's reply. "We gotta take the stairs."

"But my legs aren't working!" Jihoon protested, tripping yet again as soon as the words were out of his mouth. "I can't climb stairs."

Soonyoung sighed again, shooting Jihoon a glare. (The glare was probably meant to make Jihoon scared, but in that eyeliner with that purple hair? All Jihoon could think was  _damn_.) "I'm not carrying you."

"Please?"

"We live on the fourth floor!"

"Please?" he tried again, this time adding his self-patented puppy dog eyes. (Not that they were any good — Yoongi always ignored them with a hard-faced frown and narrowed eyes.)

"F-fine," Soonyoung spluttered, colour rising in his cheeks. (It was the alcohol, right? It had to be the alcohol.) "Get on my back."

It took a few minutes of awkward struggling and Jihoon landing on the floor  _more_  than once before he finally was secure on Soonyoung's back, the back of his knees firm in Soonyoung's grip, his own arms slung careless over Soonyoung's shoulders and around his neck. "You're warm," Jihoon muttered, pushing the side of his face against Soonyoung's neck. "It's not even warm out. Why are you so warm."

Soonyoung muttered something under his breath, starting the climb up to the fourth floor. The stairwell was quiet, filled with nothing but the creaking of the old wooden stairs, Soonyoung's heavy breaths and Jihoon's considerably less heavy breaths. They reached the fourth floor, Soonyoung asking Jihoon to open the door with a raspy voice, sending shivers down Jihoon's spine.

"I'm gonna put you down now," Soonyoung whispered once they reached the door to their room. Jihoon let out a small noise of agreement, leaning heavily against the wall once he had control of his limbs. Soonyoung pulled his keys out of his pocket with a metallic jangle that echoed in the empty hallway, opening the door with a creak and pulling Jihoon behind him.

Jihoon stumbled forward, fatigue setting in heavily on weary bones, collapsing against the first thing he felt that was remotely bed-like.

"Hey."

Jihoon smashed his face further into the soft blanket, trying to drown out the noise in the plush cotton. "Sleep," he groaned, grabbing fistfuls of blanket when Soonyoung tried to pull him off.

"Jihoon, this is  _my_  bed, you fucker—  _Jihoon—_ "

Jihoon heard Soonyoung sigh again, for what seemed like the umpteenth time that night. A weight joined him on the bed, pushing him over a little bit before shifting around. Jihoon lifted his head, bleary eyes somehow making out Soonyoung on the other side of the bed, nothing more than a silhouette in the dark. "Get under the blankets," Soonyoung whispered, tugging at the duvet until Jihoon had wiggled his way under them, nothing but a couple of inches of empty space between them.

(Even then, those couple of inches quickly dissolved into none — Jihoon and Soonyoung both slept facing the middle of the bed, apparently, on opposite sides, so it wasn't long before their legs began to intertwine beneath the duvet, the space between them disappearing as they shifted around to get more comfortable. And you could only fit so much grown men onto a single bed.)

Soonyoung's leg was in between Jihoon's, the rough material of his jeans brushing against his legs every now and then. Soonyoung shifted, the bed creaking slightly as he moved, leg brushing just the tiniest bit higher.

Jihoon was suddenly all too aware of how tight his pants had become.

Soonyoung's leg pushed even higher, his knee firmly wedged in between Jihoon's thighs, brushing gently against the tent in Jihoon's pants and sending jolting pleasure up his spine, eliciting a soft moan from Jihoon that he couldn't figure out how to hold back. Jihoon froze, breath catching in his throat as Soonyoung opened his eyes, nudging his leg upwards  _just a little bit_.

Jihoon's breaths quickened, and he bit back a groan. "You really are a horny drunk," Soonyoung whispered, voice twisting in a weird mixture of awe and disbelief and something that sounded a bit too much like relief. One of his hands snaked downwards, pressing lightly against the front of Jihoon's pants. "Want me to do something about it?"

"I thought you hated me," Jihoon said, voice just on the edge of breathless. "Why?"

"Just 'cause I hate you," Soonyoung murmured, pulling Jihoon's face closer and closer to him, until Jihoon could practically taste the alcohol on his breath, "doesn't mean I don't think you're hot." He pressed his mouth against Jihoon's, gently at first, but quickly dissolving into something more frantic, more desperate and hungry. "Just 'cause I hate you doesn't mean I don't want you."

Jihoon pulled away from Soonyoung, flushed and breathless. "Then take me," he whispered, eyes flashing with the sort of lust and hunger produced when it's been pushed down again and again and again. (Soonyoung thought he looked beautiful like this, lips cherry red and swollen, flushed and breathless, eyes glazed over in a haze of lust and want. He wasn't going to waste this opportunity.)

And so Soonyoung did.

**~= <^>=~**

Light filtered in through the open curtains, hitting Jihoon squarely in the face. He squinted, closing his eyes against the brightness — wait. The light never hit him in the mornings — it only reached to the edge of Soonyoung's bed, since Soonyoung's bed was pushed right up against the windows. Jihoon's eyes snapped open, and —  _fuck._  Soonyoung's sleeping face lay across from him, cheek squished against the pillow.

 _Fuck_.

Jihoon pushed himself off the bed, falling to the carpet with a loud  _thud_  (that somehow still didn't wake Soonyoung up, what the heck.) He pulled on his clothes from the night before — they were strewn all over the floor,  _what the heck_  — and grabbed his keys and his phone from its charger on the desk, shoving his shoes on awkwardly before  _bolting_  out the door and down four flights of stairs.

Jihoon ran out of the building, the cold air hitting him right in the face. His head pounded with each step, stomach roiling.  _How much did I even drink last night?_ He texted Jeonghan — his and Hansol's apartment was close to campus, right? A few blocks from the school? Wherever it was, he needed somewhere to crash and figure out his feelings, and the sooner the better.

_smol anger has logged in_

**smol anger  
** i need a place to crash can i come to urs

 **angle  
** i mean sure but  
we're at the hospital rn

 **smol anger  
** wat

 **angle  
** we're at the hospitla

 **smol anger  
** whAT DO YOU MEAN UR AT THE HOSPITAL  
WHO GOT HURT AND WEHN

 **angle  
** u kno hansolies friend seungkwan

 **smol** **anger  
** ye

 **angle  
** he got hit by a car

 **smol** **anger  
** fuck  
is he okay?

 **angle  
** mostly  
do u wanna come here  
i think hansolie cld use the supprot

 **smol** **anger  
** i  
...  
yeah, sure  
see u

 **angle  
** see u  
_Seen 9:23 am_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look  
> i know i said that this was gonna finally be the chapter where we figure out what happened to kwannie but this chapter is mOnstrOUS okay like 1.5K words is a lot when u started out with like 500 word chapters
> 
> so sIKE guess u'll have to wait another week
> 
> aND I KNOW THE INTERESTING PARTS WERE WEIRD IM A SOFT STAN OK I DONT LIKE THIS KINDA THING ITS JUST THERE FOR PLOT AAAAAAA *screams eternally and hides*


	17. broken

**_"if you're not seungkwan's best friend, then i'm six feet tall,"_ **

Hansol was a wreck.

He could see it in the bags under his eyes, dark and heavy. In the way his hair hung limply around his face, in the way his skin was sallow and pale, in the way his hands just  _wouldn't stop shaking_. Not even when Sungyeon had wrapped her own, smaller hands around his, warmth leaching into his cold, trembling hands.

Hansol hadn't even noticed that Seungkwan had left the apartment.  _You were preoccupied_ , his brain yelled, but he shook off the thoughts with a pang in his chest. What kind of a best friend was he if he didn't even realize Seungkwan had left?  _Not one he deserves,_  he thought, a wry, bitter smile tugging at his lips despite the worry tugging at his heartstrings.

They were lucky that Seungkwan was even alive, the doctor had told him. The official report had just been a  _shitstorm_  — a few broken and fractured ribs, breaks and fractures up the side of his left leg, a concussion, a broken arm from when he fell against the pavement after being hit — and the doctor had said repeatedly, "be glad that it's not worse. This, he can at least walk away from."

"He'll wake up."

Hansol lifted his head, staring at the doorway with bleary eyes, drooping from fatigue and stress. "You don't know that," he replied, voice cracking and breaking, something catching in his throat, thick and heavy. "He— he might just stay like this forever."

"He'll wake up," Jihoon said, coming to sit down beside Hansol. "C'mon, dude — if  _you_  don't believe in him, then how am I supposed to?"

Hansol blinked in surprise. "What?"

Jihoon huffed out a breath, the corner of his lips twitching upwards. "I mean, if his best friend won't even believe in him, guess I should just leave, right?"

The last time Hansol had cried was because Seungkwan had cried — someone at school had called him a 'dirty fag' and tore Seungkwan's shirt, the white one with pink accents that Hansol had gotten him for his birthday, and stole Seungkwan's favourite snapback at the time, a baby blue one with 'beauty' embroidered across the front. Hansol cried because Seungkwan was crying, and because he wanted him to be happy, above all else — if Seungkwan wasn't happy, then Hansol had no right to even  _smile_. (Hansol bought him another snapback and a replacement shirt — the snapback was black, with 'QUEEN' emblazoned across the front in sparkling magenta sequins, and Seungkwan loved it.)

But now tears were catching in his throat and rising in his eyes and dripping down his face, hot and wet, horrible sob-like things rippling through his body. "I— I didn't even no-notice he left," Hansol said, wiping furiously at the tears. "I don't de-deserve to b-be his best frie-end."

Jihoon frowned, wiping at Hansol's face with the sleeves of his sweatshirt. "If you're not Seungkwan's best friend," Jihoon said, a teasing lilt to his normally bitter voice, "then I'm six feet tall."

"But you-you're no-ot."

Jihoon gave Hansol a gentle smile, wrapping an arm around him protectively. "That's the point."

"Oh."

Jihoon lifted his gaze to the bed in the middle of the room, and on instinct Hansol's followed. Seungkwan lay on the small bed, smelling of something sharp and harsh and distinctly  _hospital_ , and not like the flowery perfumes he preferred over what he liked to call "the mating signals of a boy who's not quite a man; a daily shower in Axe body spray." And truth be told, it kind of broke Hansol's heart. His skin was pale, eyes shut tightly, body covered in the generic hospital gown and the even more generic sheets, hands resting lightly on top. The casts on both his arm and leg raised the sheets, an uneven bump in the otherwise flawless white sheets. The consistent, never-ending drone of the heart monitor was always present in the background, the soft  _beep'_ s coming every couple of seconds simultaneously reassuring and worrying Hansol. (What if they stopped? What if they never changed, and Seungkwan never woke up?)

"Y'know," Jihoon said, "his hands are looking kind of cold."

Hansol lightly took Seungkwan's hand in his — the one not covered by layers of plaster and bandages — and  _wow,_ was Jihoon right. They were freezing, ice cold to the touch, but still soft, still gentle and delicate. Something warm bloomed in Hansol's chest.

"You're right," he murmured, gently resting Seungkwan's hand on the bed. "They are kind of cold."

He didn't let go of Seungkwan, only gripped his hand more tightly.

Jihoon gave him another hug — something that simultaneously comforted and shocked Hansol, as Jihoon had never been one for skinship, or even affection — before saying something that involved him moving and him staying at his and Jeonghan's place for the next bit, which Hansol acknowledged with a nod (but nothing more). Jihoon left as he came, quickly and quietly, disappearing like a shadow out the doors of the room.

Hansol rubbed his fingers against Seungkwan's, cold hands warming cold hands. It didn't matter that his hands were still shaking, still as icy to the touch as Seungkwan's had been — Seungkwan needed him (Jihoon had shown him that) and so here he was.

He hadn't let go when Jihoon left, and he sure as hell wasn't going to now.

Because if he let go, then maybe Seungkwan would too.

(He didn't think he could handle that — not now, not ever.)

**~= <^>=~**

_angle has logged in_

**angle  
** cheol  
u there  
can we talk   
pls?

 **cheol  
** im here  
what do u need to talk about?

 **angle  
** so  
im not gonna sugarcoat it  
hansols friend seungkwan got hit by a car yestreday nihgt

 **cheol  
** oh shit

 **angle  
** hansols  
...  
well hes a wreck, tbfh  
and hes not coping very well  
i wanna hlep but at the smae time im also kinda in shock  
like i /know/ this kid  
he comes over for braekfsat on snudays  
ive helped him with his pyhsics hw  
and now hes in the fcuking icu  
srry for tpyos my hands r shkaing

 **cheol  
** um  
turth be told im not the best at consoling ppl  
but  
ive been told that i give really good cuddles  
do u want me to come over?

 **angle  
** can i come to urs actually  
hoonies moving in w us for a bit  
idk why but hes a good friend and so am i so  
do u have a dorm or

 **cheol**  
_[sent a location]  
_ ill be waitng with a soft blanket and comfort food

 **angle  
** you always know how to treata man  
((real talk tho thanks so much  
idk what id do wihtout you))

 **cheol  
** no problemo  
im always here to help :)  
_Seen 10:02 am_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to be a cute, fluff-only fic wHAT HAPPENED LMAO  
> alSO!! this fic finally caught up in updates to where the fic on wattpad is, so updates will come every week on fridays rather than like,,, every three days or something but yeAH  
> also shameless self promo come scream at me on twitter!! @SLVRHOPE !!! i love new friends and even tho my twt is kinda bts-centric we can still scream about these thirteen beautiful boys i love to write about!!


	18. fault

**_“am i not your boyfriend?”_ **

 “It’s not your fault.”

Minghao blinked back the tears he just  _knew_  were rising in his eyes, turning to face Junhui with a stricken expression. “What do you  _mean_  it’s not my fault?” he whispered, eyes drifting back towards the bed in the middle of the room, the scent of antiseptic drifting heavily through the air. Seungkwan lay on the bed, motionless, while Hansol was slumped over his unconscious figure, hand entwined with Seungkwan’s. “I could have stopped him. I could have, I don’t know, kept him from running away and getting here in the first place!” His voice rose with every word, shaky and cracking. “It’s all my fault.”

Tears dripped down Minghao’s face, hot and wet like the breaths that escaped his shaking chest, something hard slamming into his chest. A set of arms, strong and warm, embraced him, pulling him into a chest that was broad and warm and comfortable, tears catching in the fabric of his shirt.

“Shh,” Junhui whispered, rubbing small circles into Minghao’s back. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.” He switched into Mandarin, his words carrying with him the feeling of home. “It’s fine.”

Minghao fell asleep there, with Junhui’s arms around him, his soft, raspy voice whispering into his ear, tears dampening the fabric of Junhui’s plaid flannel shirt. When he woke up, it was in a bed that wasn’t his, in a dorm room that  _definitely_  wasn’t his, a familiar, chiselled face beside him. He sat up, shifting in the bed. Junhui’s eyes fluttered open, and a soft smile spread across his face.

“You’re awake,” he said softly.

Minghao nodded, looking around the room. “Is this your room?” Junhui gave a small nod of agreement. “Sorry for falling asleep at the hospital.”

“What time is it?” Junhui asked, clambering over Minghao to look at the clock behind him. Minghao froze, breaths ghosting over Junhui’s collarbone, the loose fabric of his t-shirt hanging low enough to reveal expanses of smooth, pale skin. “It’s practically night already. Damn.” Junhui flopped onto Minghao, hair tickling his nose. “I was gonna say we could go get dinner and visit the kid again, but visiting hours are already over.”

Minghao could feel every place where his body pressed up against Junhui’s, and it sent his heart leaping into his throat. “W-we could go to this 24-hour diner I go to for breakfast on the weekends,” he said, hoping his voice didn’t shake like it did in his head, wanting to get Junhui off him as soon as possible (but at the same time, keep him there as long as he could).

“Sure.” Junhui placed a hand on either side of Minghao’s head, pushing himself up until he was hovering above Minghao, knees straddling Minghao’s hips. The moment lasted a second — a second too long, a second too short — before Junhui was clambering off the bed and grabbing his flannel shirt from where it lay on the floor, leaving Minghao to stare at the ceiling, confused and flustered, throat drier than a desert. Minghao sat up, hoping his face wasn’t as red as it felt.

It was already dark out, the night chill just bordering on cold, reminding Minghao all too much of the night before, and their interrupted trip to the convenience store to get some ice cream. Neither of them said anything on their walk to the diner — tension hung thick between them, nearly palpable. What even was there to say? Their lives had taken a turn away from normal and a hell of a drop towards weird in the span of — what, twenty four hours? Minghao had practically confessed his love to Junhui on the roof — just thinking about it made his heart race and his face heat up, even in the brisk autumn air — Seungkwan had gotten hit by a car and was in the goddamn  _ICU_ , he’d had a breakdown at the hospital and somehow ended up in Junhui’s dorm room, practically  _cuddling_  together on his small bed. And — heck, he could even  _look_  at Junhui without his flushed cheeks (from alcohol or from Minghao, he didn’t know) and his messy bedhead, eyes drooping with sleep flashing through his head, sending his stomach and heart into Olympic-level gymnastic routines.

“Pristin?” Junhui asked as they ( _finally_ ) reached the diner, peering up at the neon lights, the ‘p’ flickering every few seconds. “Interesting name for a diner.”

“There’s a story behind the name,” Minghao said, pushing open the front door. “Something about it being two words combined and the meaning being something like ‘bright and strong’ or whatever — you can ask Nayoung if you’re really that interested.” One of the night-shift waitresses — Minkyung, but he wasn’t really sure — greeted them and brought them to a booth, handing them two menus before promising to grab Nayoung from the back.

“Anything else… interesting about the diner?” Junhui asked, picking up one of the menus.

“I mean, they only hire women, but it’s like… an empowerment thing,” Minghao said offhandedly, tapping his fingers idly against the table. “And they keep super strong tabs on everyone who comes in here to make sure we aren’t harassing the employees.

“That’s…” Junhui gave him a grin, looking up from the menu. “That’s actually kinda cool.”

“Hi, I’m Nayoung, and I’ll be your waitress for the evening. Are you ready to order?”

Minghao looked up, an easy grin falling on his face as Nayoung looked Junhui up and down. “Hey, Nayoung.”

“Hey, dude. Who’s the friend?”

Minghao turned back to Junhui, who seemed to be almost frozen in the booth. (He couldn’t blame him, though — Nayoung was imposing  _without_ the black stilettos she was wearing, and seemed to tower over them in their tiny booth.) “That’s Junhui. He goes to the same uni as you, but he’s a freshman, so you might not know him.”

Nayoung laughed, setting two glasses of icy cold water (you could  _see_  the condensation dripping off the sides of the glass, ice clinking against each other as she set them down) on the table. “No, I know Junhui. He’s kind of infamous — The Straights are always talking about him, about how Handsome Jun did this or Handsome Jun did that or  _ohmygod did you see the new dance video Bangtan posted Jun’s in it and he’s_ so hot _, ohmygod!”_ She gave Junhui a wry grin. “I don’t make opinions based on hearsay, but as long as you’re treating lil’ Minghao over there right, we’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“He’s— I’m—” Minghao flushed with embarrassment. “He’s not my boyfriend.”  _Just something like one_ , his mind screamed, but he pushed those thoughts away.

“Oh?” Nayoung cocked an eyebrow, the corner of her pink-painted lips rising with it. “But I  _distinctly_  recall you saying that you’d only bring your future boyfriend here. You weren’t  _lying_ , were you?”

“I— But— wait, when —” Minghao groaned in frustration, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, maybe I did, but what I said earlier still stands—”

“Am I not your boyfriend?” Junhui asked, his voice soft and quiet, gaze turned to the surface of the table. “Was it— did you not mean what you said?”

“What? When?” Was there something Minghao was forgetting? They were still platonic, weren’t they?

The tears trembling in the corners of Junhui’s eyes refracted the diner’s light into a little rainbow on the table, shaking with each breath he took. “Before you fell asleep again, at my dorm.”

And it all came rushing back.

_“Did I wake you up?”_

_Minghao rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Yeah. It’s okay. though.” He yawned. “‘M still kinda sleepy.”_

_Junhui clambered onto the bed, pulling Minghao down with him. “Sleep, then. It’s been a crazy twenty four hours.” He turned off the lamp sitting on his bedside table. The blinds were already shut, a sliver of light falling into the room and across Junhui’s face, giving his skin a warm glow._

_“You’re beautiful,” Minghao whispered, overcome by the sudden urge to trace Junhui’s face with his fingers, mapping every plane and curve of his face with his touch. “I think I like you_ too _much, Wen Junhui, and you’re so beautiful my heart hurts.”_

_Junhui’s eyes snapped open, latching onto Minghao’s with such a fierce intensity that he couldn’t tear his gaze away. “You like me?” His eyes were full of curiosity and eagerness. “As in you want me to be your boyfriend?”_

_Minghao felt a thousand excuses and cover-ups rise in his throat, begging for him to just open his mouth and say no, it was just a dare or a bet or a slip of the tongue, but he swallowed them down, as bitter as they were. “Yes,” he breathed, watching how Junhui’s eyelashes quivered in that stripe of sunlight, “yes, Wen Junhui, I want you to be my boyfriend.”_

_A grin grew on Junhui’s face, and he grabbed Minghao’s, pulling him in closer and closer until their lips were touching, sparks flying through Minghao’s body at the contact. Junhui pulled away, a smile still tugging at his lips. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that,” he said, and Minghao barely had enough time to register that before Junhui’s lips were back on his, insistent and passionate._

__(Minutes later, Junhui was laughing as he watched Minghao, who had somehow fallen asleep in the middle of their makeout session. "Night, fairy," he whispered, laying down beside him.)_ _

“I…” he said, trailing off as every excuse died in his throat. Junhui looked up at him expectantly, fear touching his beautiful brown eyes.

Minghao gave him what he hoped was a wry smile. “I can’t believe I managed to forget what I’ve been dreaming about for the past month.” He turned to Nayoung. “Nayoung, this right here is my beautiful boyfriend Wen Junhui, who’s only been so for about eight hours but who cares,  _he’s mine_.” And boy, did it feel good to say that.

Nayoung laughed, and the conversation turned towards the food available and what was today’s special and what was good here, and it felt like Minghao was being tugged upwards by a thousand helium balloons, buoyant and floaty and  _good_.

It was almost enough to make him forget the way that Seungkwan lay near-lifeless in the hospital, something that Minghao could have prevented with just  _one_  more word,  _one_  more step.

Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im a day early but im also a week late so whatever  
> alSO about this being a week late im sorry but we got in a car accident on the sunday and i was mostly fine but my neck was giving me heck so i didn't actually get around to writing anything until friday night, and then we were in mexico and my parents were yelling at me to 'go outside' and 'enjoy the sun' so i have reasons!!!


	19. Chapter 19

_**"i fucked up, didn't i?"** _

**smol anger  
** chan  
chan  
chan chanchannnnn

**new maknae  
** what

**smol anger  
** do u have practice today

**new maknae  
** w school or bangtan cause yes to both  
im a busy busy boy hyung  
im also in class so like,,,  
be fast

**smol anger  
** what tiem w bagntan

**new maknae  
** 3 til 6  
y u askin

**smol anger  
** long story

**new maknae  
** cmon i ahve time  
im in math no one pays attentoin in math

**smol anger  
** i yeeted the fcuk out of my dorm after the party  
and i didnt take any clothes or shit w me  
so i gotta get that stuff  
im staying w jeongahn for now

**new maknae  
** why  
u scared of hoshi hyung or smth?

**smol anger  
** nO  
we had a  
uh  
a disagreemnet

**new maknae  
** sure jan  
whats the real reason hyung

**smol anger  
** sorry i got a thing at the thing gotta go yeET

**new maknae  
** get back here u coward  
hyung  
hyung  
hyuuuunnnggggg  
im eating ur coconut bread

**smol anger  
** dONT U FUCING DARE  
gonna yeet bYE  
_ Read 2:54 pm _

**~= <^>=~**

Jihoon slipped his phone into his pocket, grabbing the spare set of keys Jeonghan had given him that morning and slipping on his shoes as he ran out the door. If he timed it correctly, he shouldn’t even  _ meet _ Soonyoung when he went to go get more clothes and books and stuff. 

The walk to the campus was a short one, just over five minutes. Luckily, Jihoon’s sleep-addled brain had had enough sense to bring his dorm key with him when he ran out the morning after the party — meaning he could go back to get everything he had forgotten. Like clothes. Or a phone charger. 

“Soonyoung will probably take the elevator,” Jihoon muttered to himself. “So I’ll take the stairs.” He ran up the four flights of stairs to the dorm room, stopping just outside the door to pull out his key. Fitting it into the lock, he began to turn it, before hearing something that made his blood run cold.

“ — Seok you’ll be fine, you’re plenty smart and stuff — look I gotta go I’m late for dance practice — yes I  _ know _ that I shouldn’t be late, seeing as I’m the leader, but stuff happens, okay!” 

Jihoon froze.  _ He’s not supposed to be here now! _ (Although it was just like Soonyoung to be late to the dance practice of the team he leads.) He shimmied the key out of the lock just as the doorknob began to turn, stuffing it in his pocket as he ran back towards the stairs. 

“Wha—  _ Jihoon? _ ”

“Shit,” he muttered, throwing open the door to the stairs and running down as quickly as he could, all too aware of the footsteps thundering after him. Jihoon barrelled towards the door at the bottom of the stairwell, smashing into it as he pushed it open and ran out the door of the dorm. He scanned the area just outside the building frantically, trying to figure out where he could lose Soonyoung as he continued to run towards the student’s union building a few hundred metres in the distance. 

“Jihoon, wait!”

Soonyoung’s hand clamped around his wrist, a vice iron grip, and Jihoon couldn’t get free no matter how hard he tugged.  _ Curse my small legs _ . He was pulled backwards until he was facing Soonyoung, hand still firmly around his wrist. “Why are you running away?”

Jihoon tried to catch his breath. “I thought… I thought you wouldn’t want to see me, after that night…” His voice trailed off into the strangely empty courtyard, a brisk wind biting at his cheeks and nose. “I fucked up, didn’t I?’

Soonyoung laughed, breathless and nervous. “Jihoon, I’ve — I’ve been asking around all  _ day _ about where you could be! I texted Jimin-hyung, I texted Chan — heck, I even texted Yoongi!” The panic in Soonyoung’s eyes was evident now, causing his eyes to shine with a fervor Jihoon had never seen before. “I’ve been so worried because you just  _ left _ , and you can’t even bring yourself to text me?’

Jihoon felt his mouth go agape, shock and disbelief drying his throat and causing words to dissolve in his mouth. “I— I don’t have your number.”

Soonyoung groaned, pulling Jihoon into a large hug. “You could’ve asked Chan, idiot.”

Jihoon pressed his face into the soft fabric of Soonyoung’s hoodie. “Why do you care so much?” he asked, words muffled by the hoodie. 

Soonyoung laughed again, still breathless, but less nervous. “Why wouldn’t I? I don’t do one night stands, Jihoon — I thought that was the start of something. Reconciliation. A relationship, maybe?” Soonyoung’s soft chuckles sent vibrations through Jihoon’s body. “I don’t know.”

Jihoon froze in Soonyoung’s arms, absorbing everything he’d just said. Soonyoung didn’t do one night stands, which meant that whatever they’d done the night of the party had been  _ special _ . (Or something.) And the start of something? Reconciliation, sure — he could barely even remember why he’d hated Soonyoung in the first place — but a relationship?

_ A relationship would be nice, _ Jihoon thought.  _ About time something nice happened. _

Before Jihoon could lose his resolve, he pulled back, out of Soonyoung’s arms, provoking a disappointed expression from the taller man, but it quickly left when Jihoon pulled Soonyoung’s face down to his, pressing their lips together in a chaste kiss. 

When he finally pulled away, Soonyoung’s cheeks were tinted pink, and he was sure that his were a similar shade. “I don’t want to date yet,” Jihoon began, and Soonyoung’s face fell again. “But,” he continued, giving Soonyoung a small smile, “I’m not opposed to a date or two.”

A huge grin spread across Soonyoung’s face, and he pulled Jihoon in for another kiss. “Lee Jihoon, you are an angel.”

Jihoon laughed, feeling a thousand times lighter than he did before. “Don’t you have practice?”

Soonyoung’s grin froze, and was quickly replaced by a look of panic. “Shit— yeah— uh, I’ll text you?”

Jihoon gave him a small smirk, telling him, “You know it,” before he ran off. He laughed at Soonyoung’s retreating back, pulling out his phone as he walked back towards the dorm room.

_ smol anger has logged in _

**smol anger  
** hey jeonghan

**angle  
** ye?

**smol anger  
** thanks for the couch space  
but i dont think i’ll be needing it anymore

**angle  
** what  
waIT  
LEE JIHOON  
DID U OR DID U NOT GET UR MANS  
ANSWER ME U NUGGET

**smol anger  
** :)))

**angle  
** GET BACK HERE LEE JIHOON  
I WANT ANSEWRS  
JIHOON  
oh fuck u im stealing ur guitar  
_ Read 3:21 pm _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol I was posting in class when i wasnt supposed to earlier so here's my authors note
> 
> thanks so much for 3K hits and over 150 kudos!! this is my first work for the svt fandom, and seeing it grow bigger than my expectations really makes me happy uwu
> 
> q&a: i made some moodboards for the fic, would u guys want to see them?


	20. 020 » whipped

_**"i think i'm in love with jeonghan,"** _

Seungcheol was whipped. Whipped for a certain Hong Jisoo.

And somehow, everyone seemed to know it.

“Don’t you even  _try_  to deny it, Coups, I can see it in your  _eyes_ ,” Mingyu said, sprawled all over Wonwoo on Seungcheol’s tiny couch.

“He’s right,” Wonwoo said through a mouthful of pancakes. “C’mon, man — spill!”

Back when they had just started the whole underground-illegal-rapping-group thing, more often than not would they stay late at the ring on Saturday nights, scrounging up whatever cash they could from the battles. And somehow, they all made their way to Seungcheol’s apartment by the next morning, bearing gifts of food so that they wouldn’t get murdered by morning-Seungcheol the minute they rang the doorbell.

That had been a year and a bit ago. Now they all had their own set of keys to Seungcheol’s apartment, and Mingyu made breakfast from whatever he could find in Seungcheol’s small fridge.

And of course, they gossiped.

Hansol, whenever he managed to make it, said that they were worse than old ladies at a cafe on a Saturday. (That didn’t stop him from adding his two cents — heck, he might even be the worst of all of them.)

Which now explains why Mingyu and Wonwoo are at his house at 9:30 on a Sunday morning, all of them slightly hungover (but still down for a good gossip session.)

“Come  _on_ ,” Mingyu whined, smacking Seungcheol’s foot. “I told you about how whipped I was for Wonwoo when I realized I liked him, didn’t I?”

Wonwoo choked on his pancakes, coughing into his hand. “You did?’

“We can discuss this later, babe,” Mingyu said, waving down Wonwoo’s concern. “There are more pressing matters at hand.”

“What, my crush on Hong Jisoo?” Seungcheol laughed, scooping another bite of Mingyu’s heavenly pancakes into his mouth. “That’s not exactly what I would call a ‘pressing matter.’”

_“Dude.”_  Mingyu looked Seungcheol straight in the eyes, his gaze boring into Seungcheol’s. “It’s not just a crush. You’re  _whipped._ ”

“Enamoured,” Wonwoo added. “Infatuated. Captivated. Smi—”

“Okay, I get it,” Seungcheol said, cutting off what could have been a huge rant from Wonwoo. “Maybe it  _is_  just more than a crush. But why shouldn’t it be? Have you  _met_  the angel that is Hong Jisoo?”

Mingyu rolled his eyes. “Dude, I’m pretty sure you gave us a whole drunken rant about it last night.”

“Yeah, well now you get my  _sober_  rant about Why I Love Hong Jisoo.”

“Here he goes again,” Wonwoo muttered under his breath, quietly but still loud enough that Seungcheol could hear him, prompting a dagger-filled glare from the latter.

“He’s so kind, and nice, and friendly! He made us all feel so welcome when we joined the band, and he’s so pretty — he looks like a delicate flower and I want to  _protect him with my life_. And he’s so genuinely nice too — like it’s not an act, y’know what I mean?”

Mingyu opened his mouth — probably to deliver a snarky comment — but before he could say anything, Seungcheol’s phone let out a small  _ping_.

“You got a text? Who’s it from?” Mingyu asked, nearly falling off the couch as he climbed over Wonwoo to peer at the small screen of his phone.

“No one,” Seungcheol protested, covering the screen with his hand. Mingyu whined, pawing fruitlessly at Seungcheol’s hands. He slapped Mingyu’s hands away. “I’ll let you make out with Wonwoo for, I don’t know, a month, whenever if you leave me alone right now.”

Mingyu stopped immediately, a devilish grin gracing his chiseled features. “A whole month?”

“Yes.”

“Even during band practice?”

Seungcheol laughed at this, hitting Mingyu playfully on the shoulder. “If you’re willing to risk Jihoon’s wrath, then sure.”

Mingyu grinned, tackling Wonwoo as he said, “Deal!”

Seungcheol shook his head, smiling despite himself as he opened up his messages. That smile fell almost as soon as he read the first few messages, fingers tapping almost furiously against the small screen.

“Cheol? You good?”

He glanced up from his phone — Mingyu was still on top of Wonwoo, but they had both turned to face him. “Uh, y-yeah? Why are you asking?”

“You looked worried,” Wonwoo said, adjusting his glasses, face flushed a light pink. “Something wrong?”

Another small  _ping_  sounded from his phone, and he turned back to it without answering Wonwoo’s question. “Yeah,” Seungcheol said, voice small and shaking, “something’s wrong.” He turned his gaze back to them, trying to pull his lips up into a smile. “Is it okay if we put our Sunday on hold for this week?”

“Definitely,” Mingyu responded, almost instantaneously. He extricated himself from the couch, pulling Wonwoo up behind him. “Next week, okay?”

Seungcheol merely nodded, gaze aimed once again at his phone screen. “See you next week.”

_In the meantime, I’ve got a very pretty boy to take care of._

**~= <^>=~**

_jisoo has logged in_

**angle  
** how many times have i told u ur username is boring

**jisoo  
** enough that i just dont care anymore lol

**angle  
** i will take it upon myself to change ur username then

_angle changed jisoo’s name to backpack bible_

**backpack bible**  
all i can say is  
why

**angle**  
remember that time we found a bible in ur backpack  
yeh thats why u nerdy church kid  
i bet u still go every sunday

**backpack bible**  
of course i do!  
dont you?

**angle**  
….right, sure i do  
((sIKE we all know im a dirty sinner and proud))

**backpack bible  
** jeonghan.

**angle**  
yo i could feEL the fatherly disappointment in that text  
ily jisoo but even ur dadlike disappointment aint getting me to church  
anYWAYS  
speaking of sin remember seungcheol

**backpack bible**  
the new rapper who’s our age?  
yeah

**angle**  
ok s o  
i went to the hospital w hansol to visit kwannie rite  
and idk hansol was super upset and that made me upset too???  
plus i /know/ kwannie, he comes over for breakfast lmao

**backpack bible**  
hes that cute gay kid with killer fashion sense right?  
i think i saw him one time at ur house  
he has rly chubby cheeks uwu

**angle**  
whoa mark this day  
‘hong jisoo utilized an uwu in a text’  
but yeah thats the kid

**backpack bible**  
aww poor kid  
poor hansol

**angle**  
yeah  
bUT anyways i was upset so i texted cheol  
he told me to come over and wOW does he give good cuddles  
i think i like him, shua  
as in /like/ like him  
shua?

**backpack bible**  
ah  
thats great  
im so happy for you

**angle**  
thanks shua  
ur such a good friend uwu

_Read 1:21 pm_

Jisoo placed his phone down on his desk, something heavy and dark hanging over his heart. Why was his chest aching?

“You good, Jisoo-hyung?”

Jisoo turned to face Seokmin. “Yeah.”

“You’re crying, dude.” Seokmin hopped off his perch on his bed, walking over with concern evident in his normally bright eyes. “You sure you good?”

“I’m crying?” Jisoo swiped at his eyes, frowning at his fingers when they came away wet. “Huh. Guess I am.”

“What’s wrong?” Seokmin asked, grabbing Jisoo’s arm.

A horrible realization dawned on Jisoo, causing his heart to sink down into his stomach and more tears to pour forth from his eyes. He turned to Seokmin, voice a hoarse whisper.

“I think I’m in love with Jeonghan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter doesnt feel like my best work but whatever :///  
> uhhh anywAYS hiXTAPE OH MY GOD W H O A  
> my favourite atm is daydream but who knows 
> 
> if you want to scream my twitter is [here](https://twitter.com/SLVRHOPE)


	21. flames

**_"i think i'm in love with my best friend,"_ **

“Hansol?”

Hansol lifted his head from the mattress of the hospital bed, all bleary eyes and cottonmouth. He rubbed at his eyes, yawning as he turned towards Jeonghan. “Yeah?”

“Have you been here all day?” Jeonghan asked, concern filling his voice. His eyes were red and bloodshot, but Hansol didn’t say anything — he knew his eyes were probably just as bad.

“What time is it?”

“Around nine o’clock,” was Jeonghan’s answer. He tossed Hansol his jacket. “At night.”

“Oh.” Hansol glanced at the clock hanging above the door frame. “Guess I have been, then.”

“Get up. I’m taking you home.”

Hansol stood up, gripping Seungkwan’s fingers tighter in his. “I can’t leave. Seungkwan still hasn’t woken up yet.”

“Hansol.” Jeonghan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know you’re concerned about Seungkwan, but dude! You gotta take care of yourself too!”

“But Seungkwan,” Hansol said numbly. Jeonghan grabbed his free hand, pulling him towards the door and shoving his abandoned jacket over his shoulders. Reluctantly, Hansol followed, letting go of Seungkwan’s hand and missing the warmth that came with it almost immediately.

“You can come back after school,” Jeonghan said, nearly dragging him down the stairs and out of the lobby. “Your health comes first, okay? I don’t want you forgetting about yourself because you’re so worried about Seungkwan.”

“But what if he wakes up while I’m not there?”

Jeonghan pushed open the front door of the hospital, still tugging Hansol along as they began the walk home. “Then he wakes up. He’s not going to be mad because you aren’t beside him every second of the day.”

“But—”

Jeonghan stopped abruptly, Hansol running into him. “Look,” he said, grabbing Hansol by the shoulders. “Even if he is, for some absurd reason, he’s still gonna be your best friend when he wakes up. Nothing’s gonna change. He’s still gonna be there for you, and you’re still gonna be there for him.” Jeonghan smiled, and for some reason that made Hansol warmer than the jacket draped around his shoulders. “Okay?’

Hansol let out a shaky breath, watching the air cloud a pale white in front of him. “Okay.”

For the first time in what felt like eternity, Hansol smiled.

**~= <^>=~**

“Dude, are you okay?”

Hansol lifted his head from the surface of the cafeteria’s hard tables, blinking blearily at Mingyu. “Yeah,” he said, “‘why do you ask?”

Mingyu huffed, practically throwing his tray onto the table as he sat down. “Because you look like a zombie.”

Hansol frowned, sitting up straighter. “I do not!”

“Bro,” Mingyu deadpanned, “you look like Minghao when he pulls an all-nighter and forgets his morning coffee.”

Hansol winced, pulling his beanie down lower over his face. “That bad?”

“Yeah.”

He groaned, pulling his beanie down over his eyes and nose. “But I got a full four hours of sleep!” Hansol complained, voice muffled by the fabric of his beanie.

“Four hours isn’t enough, you sleep deprived teenager,” Mingyu scolded around a mouthful of noodles.

“He’s right,” Sungyeon interrupted, setting down her own tray. “Hansol, you have to sleep more! Take care of yourself!”

“Why should I care about myself, if Seungkwan hasn’t woken up yet?” Hansol’s heart sank as he remembered the way that Seungkwan had looked so small, so fragile on that hospital bed, all sallow skin and thin wrists. “Shouldn’t I care about him first?”

Sungyeon groaned, slamming her tray into the table. “That’s it! I’m done!” She stood up abruptly, grabbing Hansol’s wrist with her small, perfectly manicured fingers. “Hansol, come with me. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Hansol complied, letting Sungyeon pull him through the cafeteria — past the table full of book nerds, with their glasses and hoodies; past the emos, with thick eyeliner you could barely see past long fringes of dark hair; past the football jocks, with their rowdy jokes and lettermans’ jackets — all the way to the table full of cheerleaders, with high pitched laughs and ponytails pulled back so tight Hansol was worried their hair was going to fall off. She let go of his hand as she stalked towards the table, tapping a girl with peach-pink hair on the shoulder before bringing her over to Hansol.

“Hansol,” Sungyeon began, all traces of the sweetness Hansol fell for absent from her voice, “this is my girlfriend Yehana.”

“You cheated on me?’

“She’s been my girlfriend since sophomore year,” she said flatly, scowling. “Technically I cheated on her, but since this whole thing has been a dare, it doesn’t really count.”

Hansol blinked in surprise. “A dare?”

Sungyeon huffed out a breath. “Yes! Are you  _that_  slow?” She gestured back towards the other cheerleaders, who had quieted down and were watching the confrontation. “They dared me to get a boy to date me, a lesbian, to see how good my acting was. Apparently it was pretty good, if I could get you convinced that I was straight.”

Hansol’s mind was whirling, a muddled mess of half-formed thoughts and the haze that comes with not getting enough sleep, trying to process everything that was going on. “So you’re playing with my heart over a dare?”

Sungyeon laughed, the once lovely sound now shrill and unpleasant in Hansol’s ears. “Playing with your heart?” She stalked towards Hansol, a smirk on her round face. Stabbing a manicured nail into Hansol’s chest with a vicious kind of malice Hansol had never seen before, she purred, “Hansolie, your heart was never mine in the first place.”

Time seemed to slow, the burning stares of hundred of people boring into him from all directions. “What do you mean,” Hansol asked slowly, “my heart was never yours?”

Sungyeon grinned, but there was something feline and dangerous in it that made Hansol shiver. “Oh, you don’t know?” she asked, a fake kind of innocence filling her tone. Sungyeon looked around at the rest of the cafeteria, jeering, “This boy doesn’t even know who’s stolen his heart!”

The laughs, mocking and cruel, surrounded him, filling Hansol’s brain and taking up every last thought. “What do you even  _mean_?” he demanded, desperate to just  _leave_ , to just run out of this damned cafeteria in this fucking school and never come back.

Sungyeon spoke, accenting every word with a jab of her finger into Hansol’s chest. “You’re in love with your best friend, Boo Seungkwan.”

**~= <^>=~**

Hansol had been at the hospital since lunch, and no longer knew what time it was. Just that it was late; the sky outside Seungkwan’s window was fading from blue into a dark purple. Had he eaten? Had he even left Seungkwan’s room since he’d gotten here?

He didn’t know anymore, and honestly, he didn’t really care.

Hansol looked over at Seungkwan again — the cheeks that he loved to squish; the eyes that Hansol loved, despite how Seungkwan hated how he didn’t have a cute eyesmile; the lips that were always around some song that got stuck in his head this morning; his smaller hands that were somehow always entwined with his — and something seemed to grow in his chest, lighting the small coals of a fire that grew the longer he looked.

Seungkwan’s eyes fluttered open, and he gasped, sitting up. He turned to Hansol, joy and relief and concern and confusion flitting over his round features. “Hansolie? Where am I?” He frowned, untangling their fingers and brushing away a tear from Hansol’s face. “And why are you crying?”

“No reason,” Hansol said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m just… I’m so glad you’re awake, boo.”

Seungkwan grinned, trailing his fingers down Hansol’s cheek. “Me too.”

_I’m in love with my best friend._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall over four thousand hits?? over 250 kudos??? what is this??? thank you all so much???  
> this is like,,,, twice as popular than on wattpad but we already knew ao3 recognized original content more than the same cliches lmao uhhh  
> find me [here](twitter.com/SLVRHOPE) on twt so we caN SCREAM ABT OUR BOYS


	22. blood, sweat, and tears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: SELF-HARM SCENE   
> IF THIS IS A TRIGGER FOR YOU, PLEASE SKIP FROM 'Minghao took a shaky breath, and began to explain.' TO 'Junhui was crying,'   
> UHHH YEAH BYE HAVE FUN READING LMAO

**_"i love you, okay?"_ **

 “OKAY FUCKERS!” Soonyoung ran into the dance studio, more than a few minutes late, a huge grin on his face. “The showcase is in a month and we have to figure out what we’re doing still! We have an  _entire fucking hour_  so we can have a shit ton of dances, so choose who you wanna dance with and start choreographing!”

“Wait, choreographing?” Chan asked from the other side of the room. “We gotta make our own dances?”

“Yeah!” Soonyoung hollered back, pumping his fist in the air. “Bangtan tradition! Let’s  _goooo_!”

Minghao looked over at Junhui, their eyes meeting from across the room. Junhui grinned, walking over to Minghao.

“Hi,” he said, bending down to kiss Minghao softly on the forehead. “I’m assuming we’re going to do a duet?”

“Of course,” Minghao replied. “In what world would I blow off a chance to dance on stage with my boyfriend?”

“Hopefully not in this one.”

“GET PLANNING!” Soonyoung yelled, jumping on Jeongguk’s back. “Remember, you’ve got a month to choreograph, and clean,  _and_  figure out stage lighting and costumes and shit! It’s a lot more work than you think! Looking at you, Chan!”

“I got it!” he yelled back, digging through his bag.

“There’s this cool song,” Junhui began, pulling out his phone, “that I thought we could do, and it has a Mandarin version, and I already have an idea of the concept—” He stopped abruptly, worry flashing across his face. “That is, if you’re okay with that?”

Minghao grinned, taking Junhui’s other hand. “I mean, I have  _no_  ideas, so sure.”

“Good,” Junhui said, a huge grin slowly spreading across his face. “The song’s called ‘My I,’ and based on the lyrics I figured we could do a ‘one-person-is-the-future-self and one-is-the-past’ type thing?” He looked from his phone, eyes meeting Minghao’s — once he saw the encouragement and excitement lying there, he continued. “And to show how they’re connected, I was thinking we could use this long, white elastic-y thing and incorporate it into the choreography somehow?”

“I, for one,” Minghao said, bringing up his hand, still entwined with Junhui’s, and kissing each knuckle, “think that you are an unrivaled genius, and I can’t wait to start choreo.”

Junhui grinned. “I’ll go ask Soonyoung if we can steal a studio.”

**~= <^>=~**

Junhui plugged his phone into the auxiliary cord attached to the loudspeakers, prompting a harsh screech from said speakers. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly, then pressed play, the opening notes sounding through the speakers, a somber but bouncing melody that Minghao took a liking to immediately. A voice, high and melodic, began to sing — in Mandarin, as Junhui had said — and Minghao was struck by inspiration, a thousand ideas of what they could do running through his head. He grinned, already anticipating the rest of the song.

A second voice began to sing with a lower tone than the first, each vowel rounder and thicker in his mouth. “I really like this part,” Minghao said.

“Me too,” Junhui said.

The song played on, eventually drawing to a close. Minghao turned to Junhui, a look of awe written across his face. “I love this song,” he breathed, shooting Junhui a grin. “I have so many ideas.”

“I already found us an elastic-y thing,” Junhui said, pulling a thick, white, elastic band from out behind his back. “Look, it’s even got two loops already for our wrists!”

“Perfect,” Minghao said, ignoring the twist of anxiety in his stomach. “Any ideas on how you want to start?”

“Well, I was thinking we could start in the middle, with our backs to each other,” Junhui began, handing one of the elastic loops to Minghao and gently pulling his body around. “And then walk away from each other, and then come back somehow using the rope?”

“What if we,” Minghao said, “took in sections of the rope as we came in, so that at the end our hands are right next to each other, and we’ve got a bunch of rope folds? Like, like this—” He demonstrated his idea, pulling sections of the rope taut as he grabbed them, eventually pulling it all into one bundle in his hands, one resting on the floor.

“That looks really cool,” Junhui said, grinning.

“I’m so excited!” Minghao yelled, a grin spreading across his face as well.

“Me too!” Junhui yelled back, pulling Minghao into a kiss.

**~= <^>=~**

“Okay, so for this part I was thinking we could wrap the rope around your hands,” Junhui said, sweat beading against his brow, “and make it look like  _I’m_  lifting your hands up.”

“Like this?” Minghao asked, wrapping the rope around his wrists twice.

“No, like  _this,_ ” Junhui replied, reaching over to grab Minghao’s wrists, pulling them up to where he wanted him, then rewrapping the ropes.

Minghao inhaled sharply, steeling himself against the pain that shot up his arm.  _Don’t see it don’t see it dontseeit—_

“Minghao, babe,” Junhui said, something cold in his voice, “why are there cuts on your arm?”

Minghao broke out in a cold sweat. “I-I can explain,” he stammered, unable to control the tremor in his voice.

“You’d better,” Junhui all but growled, turning Minghao around so he was facing him, the inside of his forearm facing the ceiling, bright red staining his wrist.

Minghao took a shaky breath, and began to explain.

_A week had passed since Seungkwan had been put in the hospital by that car, and Hansol’s visits to the hospital had been getting longer and more frequent since the Sunday after the party. Today, Minghao decided to tag along — technically, he’d been the one to put Seungkwan in the hospital, so it only made sense that he’d want to see the effects of his actions, right? (Was getting drunk with Junhui on the roof worth Seungkwan almost losing his life?)_

_Hansol’s eyebags had been getting darker and darker as the days passed — and with good reason. Minghao stepped into the room where Seungkwan lay sleeping and had to take a minute to catch his breath, looking upon the damage that_ he _had inflicted upon someone. Seungkwan looked so fragile, so pale — like he would shatter with a touch that was just a bit too harsh, or fade away with a breath that was just a bit too strong._

_I did this, he thought, the harsh realization dawning upon him. I’m the reason he’s here. I’m the reason he hasn’t woken up yet. I’m the reason he might never wake up again._

_Minghao fled, tears already spilling from his eyes, sobs wracking his chest. He ran until the burning in his chest was no longer just because of his tears, until the way his eyes watered was no longer just because of his sorrow. The front door to his house was unlocked and thrown open hastily and messily — he was lucky his parents were both at work — and he bolted up the stairs, nearly tripping. He fell onto his bed, ugly, loud sobs leaving his small body, wracking his brain for some way to stop the pain, to numb the guilt and despair he felt._

_Maybe, Minghao thought, half-delirious with the guilt spreading through his body — Maybe if I hurt my body, my heart will stop aching. That’s how it works, right?_

_He wasn’t sure whether his logic was sound, but it sounded better than just leaving it, and stewing in guilt and sorrow for many more hours, so he ran to his bathroom, pulling out one of the razors he used to shave his face and smashing it against the counter, bending the plastic and metal until something broke. His fingertips cut and bled, but he ignored them, pulling at the plastic until it gave way, releasing a small metal blade onto the countertop. Bleeding fingers grabbed the small piece of metal, shaking as they gripped the thin blade. Minghao took a breath, steeling himself for the pain to come, then dragged the sharp end of the blade down the inside of his wrist, waiting until the pain shot up his arm and red started welling up from the cut before he pulled it down again. And again. And again._

_It felt good, was the thing. Once he had started, he didn’t want to stop — the way that the pain released the pain in his heart made him feel relieved, and lighter, as if his burdens had left with his blood._

_Minghao knew that this would only hurt him more in the end, but who cared if he did it now?_

Junhui was crying, ugly sobs leaving him as he hit his fist against Minghao’s chest weakly. “You stupid… stupid…” he whispered, voice hoarse from crying. “Don’t you ever do this again, okay?”

“But,” Minghao said, his voice barely louder than Junhui’s, “but what if I deserve it?’

“You will never,  _ever_ ,” Junhui said, brushing a finger lightly over the cuts on Minghao’s arm, “be deserving of anything like this. You aren’t at fault here, okay?”

The way that Junhui’s voice shook had Minghao breaking down into tears. “Okay,” he wailed, collapsing into Junhui’s arms. “I promise.”

“I love you, okay?” Junhui whispered softly, patting Minghao’s back. “And I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

“I promise,” Minghao repeated, words muffled by the fabric of Junhui’s shirt.

“And I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember when this was supposed to be fluff  
> lmao uhhh fluff who's her? i dont know a fluff i only know angst  
> i promise next week's chapter will be less sad ok it'll be all fluff because kwannie's awake!! and the gang needs to scream at him!!!
> 
> lmao idek if this is good or not ive been really stressed
> 
> also ive been taking a break from twitter because of stress and stuff, so thats why i havent linked any moodboard shit yet so uhhh yeah that might not actually happen until like,,, april or may or smth bUT i promise i'll do it eventually i know it'll happen


	23. sunlight

**_“i need a favour,”_ **

 “Is it possible to like two people at once?”

Mingyu looked up from where he had buried his face in Wonwoo’s neck, confusion flashing in his eyes as his gaze locked with Seungcheol’s. “I mean, I guess? Before I was with Wonwoo I liked three people at a time, once.” He shifted his position, curling into the side of Wonwoo’s body but turning to face Seungcheol. “Why are you asking?”

A week had passed since Jeonghan had flown into Seungcheol’s apartment like an errant tornado, eyes red from crying, cheeks flushed pink. A week since they had sat on Seungcheol’s couch for what felt like mere minutes but was probably closer to hours, Seungcheol’s arms wrapped firmly around Jeonghan as he cried into Seungcheol’s shirt.

A week had passed since that little flutter had risen in Seungcheol’s chest when he looked at Jeonghan, and it hadn’t gone away since.

“Because I think I might like two people,” he replied slowly, meeting Mingyu’s questioning gaze. “And I’m not exactly sure what to do.”

“Wait,” Wonwoo interjected, petting the top of Mingyu’s head slowly, “I thought you liked Jisoo-hyung?”

“I do!” Seungcheol protested, laughing as Mingyu practically  _purred,_  pushing his head into Wonwoo’s palm. “I just… I think I also like someone else.”

“Is it Jeonghan?” Mingyu asked, eyes still shut tightly as Wonwoo petted him. “I bet it’s Jeonghan.”

“Wh— that’s— you can’t just say shit like that!” Seungcheol stammered out, heat rushing into his cheeks. “What if it’s not, huh?”

Mingyu grinned, tearing himself away from Wonwoo to send a condescending smirk at Seungcheol. “It  _so_  is.”

“Is not!”

“Then why are you redder than a fire truck, huh?”

“Wha— I—  _am not!”_

“Just admit it, Cheol,” Wonwoo grumbled, tugging Mingyu back petulantly until his arms were wrapped around him again. “You’re whipped for not one, but  _two_  of your pretty bandmates, and you don’t know how to handle it.”

“I’m changing the subject!” Seungcheol practically yelled, feeling the tips of his ears heat up — he must have been red from head to toe at that point. “Remember that Jiyeon chick that showed up at the ring about a month ago?”

“She was with Vernonie, wasn’t she?” Mingyu asked, fiddling idly with a pair of glasses that had  _somehow_  made their way from Wonwoo’s face to Mingyu’s hands. “I wouldn’t say I’m  _straight_  or anything, but she was hella pretty.”

“Saying she’s pretty doesn’t make you straight,” Wonwoo scoffed, snatching his glasses out of Mingyu’s hands. “How does Hansol even know her?’

“She looks a bit like Jeonghan,” Mingyu commented idly, flicking away a stray strand of hair hanging over Wonwoo’s face. “Right?”

Seungcheol choked on what seemed to be air, shooting Mingyu an incredulous look. “No she doesn’t!” Seungcheol retorted. “Back me up here, Wonwoo.”

“I mean, he kind of has a point,” Wonwoo said.

Seungcheol narrowed his eyes at Wonwoo, flinging an accusing finger in his direction. (If looks could kill, Wonwoo would have been dead three times over.) “You’re just saying that because he’s your boyfriend.”

“Am not! Besides, she has the same haircut as Jeonghan, even. How can you say that’s not a similarity?”

“Okay, fine,” Seungcheol muttered. “But she was wearing a mask!”

“So were we, my dude,” Mingyu said, “and I can still tell that it’s you and Wonwoo and Hansol.”

“Besides,” Wonwoo interjected, “it’s not the physical aspects that matter as much, because you can alter those with makeup or contacts or wigs. It’s their mannerisms — the things they do almost subconsciously that make them who they are.”

“I’m in love with such a smart man,” Mingyu sighed, a dream-like look on his face. Wonwoo blushed, bringing a hand to his face to cover the pink rising in his cheeks.

“The last time I saw Jiyeon was a month ago,” Seungcheol pointed out, keeping the conversation firmly on track. “How can I compare their mannerisms if I haven’t seen her in a month?”

“You’ll just have to ask Hansol to bring her again,” Mingyu said plainly, eyes shut once again as Wonwoo’s fingers petted his hair. “Then you can figure it out, right?’

Seungcheol was cut off from answering by his doorbell ringing, a harsh screeching ring that reverberated throughout the small apartment — his doorbell had never really worked right, but he could never be bothered to fix it. He quirked an eyebrow at the two on the couch, walking over to the door and opening it slowly. “Hello?”

“Seungcheol!” the figure at the door yelled, barreling into the room like a tornado on a windy day. “I need a favour.”

“Jeonghan?” Seungcheol spluttered out, spinning away from the door and towards where Jeonghan was standing under the doorway in the hallway that lead from the entry to the living room, where a confused Mingyu and Wonwoo were watching from the couch. “What are you doing here?”

“It's a long story,” was Jeonghan’s reply, breathless and excited, the pink flush on his cheeks doing something strange to Seungcheol’s stomach. “But I need you to be my date.”

“ _What_?” Seungcheol’s mind went a thousand places at once, all of them more than he could bring himself to wish more, all of them never going to happen. “Why?”

“Soonyoung and Jihoon finally got their shit together and decided to try properly dating,” Jeonghan said, tearing through the living room into Seungcheol's room, hands searching drawer after drawer with a practiced kind of swiftness, evaluating shirt after sweater after pair of jeans before giving it his approval or not, throwing the clothes into different piles on Seungcheol's bed. “Except Jihoon's such a pussy he asked to make it a double date and roped me into it, and now I need a date and you're the only person I know that would agree to it on such short notice.”

“Why didn't you just ask one of the actual couples to go in your place?” Seungcheol asked, flustered. (His crush asking him out on a date, even if it wasn't really a date and was mainly because of convenience? Seungcheol had to make sure he wasn't dreaming before he agreed to anything.)

“Minghao and Junhui are practicing for their showcase in a couple weeks and I don't have Mingyu or Wonwoo’s numbers.” Jeonghan pulled out a sweater from the back of one of Seungcheol's many drawers, a soft, cream-coloured thing that he hadn't seen since the beginning of senior year of high school, and tossed it to Seungcheol. “Put this on.” Jeonghan turned to face Seungcheol's bed, and after a bit of deliberation threw a pair of slightly worn jeans at him as well. “And these.”

“Why?”

Jeonghan looked at him as though he'd suddenly sprouted a third arm. “Because no date of mine, no matter how fake it is, is gonna look bad on said date.”

Seungcheol shrugged. Who was he to judge? Heck, he was only coming along because he was the last resort, anyways — what would it hurt to dress up a bit and go on a date he wasn't expected to pay for? (Although, he probably could have paid for everyone's fare on said date easily — being a slightly illegal underground rap battler did have its benefits.)

He pulled his shirt off without much flourish, goosebumps rising to the surface as a draft blew through the room. (Would it be indecent to take off his sweatpants, too? It wasn't like he was  _actually_  stripping or anything; he would still have his boxers on.)

“I’m gonna see if you have any, uh…” Jeonghan began, trailing off halfway through the sentence. Seungcheol glanced at him, watching the way his Adam’s apple bobbed with confusion. “See if you have any makeup or something,” he finished, words hurried as he practically  _ran_ into the attached bathroom.

Seungcheol grinned, laughing softly to himself as he pulled on the creamy sweater and tugged on the worn jeans, running a hand through his hair until it was at least presentable.  _So Jeonghan is easily flustered, huh?_

Choi Seungcheol wouldn't say he was a player. He knew how to commit, even if he did enjoy the occasional one night stand or week-long relationship. But although he'd gone through more than his fair share of relationships, he  _did_  know he was absolutely  _brilliant_  at flirting. (No, actually, he was approached by someone on the train after he'd gotten a girl's number and asked to write a column for a magazine about successful flirting. It was still his claim to fame to this very day.)

And of course, every relationship starts with a bit of flirting.

(Seungcheol was going to have  _fun_ on this “not-date.”)

Jeonghan exited the bathroom with disappointment written all over his face, cheeks fading from cherry red to a soft pink. “I should have guessed that you wouldn't have any makeup,” he complained, pushing past Seungcheol into the kitchen and digging through his bag. Seungcheol followed him — Mingyu and Wonwoo were thankfully nowhere to be found — sneakily slipping their dishes from earlier into the sink as Jeonghan rummaged through his bag.

“And I need makeup because?” Seungcheol leaned on the counter, watching as Jeonghan pulled out three different tubes of what looked like lip gloss, a thin, black box of something, and what looked like a really fancy pencil. “What even is all that stuff?’

“Lip gloss, eyeshadow, and eyeliner,” Jeonghan said, pulling out a couple more containers of stuff and a bag full of — paintbrushes? “And that’s blush, that’s highlighter, and that’s setting powder,” he continued, pointing at each container in turn. (Not that Seungcheol could distinguish between any of them anyways; he forgot which one was which almost immediately after Jeonghan told him.) “We’re not going to use all of it, obviously, but some of it at least.” Jeonghan paused, turning to Seungcheol with the most earnest look he’d ever seen on his face. “That is, if you’re okay with it?”

Seungcheol swallowed hard. Jeonghan looked so innocent like this — eyes wide and dark and beautiful, skin glowing golden under the sun streaming in through the window, hair a million shades of umber and sepia — that he couldn’t bring himself to say no. “Sure.”

Jeonghan pulled at Seungcheol’s sweater until he sat down at one of the chairs along the kitchen counter, hands resting lightly on his shoulders. “Close your eyes,” he said, turning away from Seungcheol to grab one of the items he’d set out on the counter. Seungcheol obeyed, waiting patiently until he felt the gentle press of what he assumed was eyeliner on his lids — unfamiliar pressure, but not uncomfortable. After what felt like an eternity, the pressure lifted, Jeonghan’s voice ringing out an ‘open your eyes,’ through the room. They fluttered open — hesitantly, as the sun was streaming in through the window and straight into his eyes — and locked with Jeonghan’s, a gentle smile curving across Seungcheol’s lips.

Jeonghan returned his smile with a grin of his own, saying, “I think if I put any mascara on you, your eyelashes would be long enough to fly you away if you blinked fast enough,” in the most light hearted, playful tone Seungcheol had heard from Jeonghan.

“Why not?” Seungcheol found himself replying, unable to look away from the soft smile gracing Jeonghan’s pretty pink lips. “It’ll give us an easy escape route if Jihoon and Soonyoung start acting too couple-y in front of us.”

Jeonghan laughed, bright and loud and like the sun shining on a spring day, then grabbed a thicker tube from the counter and unscrewing it. “You asked for it,” he said, directing the tube until it was level with Seungcheol’s eyes, the wand moving with quick, determined strokes across his eyelashes.

Jeonghan grabbed a small compact mirror from the counter once he was done, opening it with a practiced kind of efficiency and turning it towards Seungcheol. “What d’you think?”

Seungcheol gave himself a once over in the mirror — he didn’t look that much different, but his eyelashes looked  _way_  longer and quite a bit darker than normal, and the way Jeonghan had done his eyeliner made him look more innocent, less jaded. “I like it. It looks good.” He closed the mirror, watching as Jeonghan tucked it and several other bits and pieces of makeup back into his little bag. “You’re really good at this.”

Jeonghan pulled his bag back over his shoulder as he hopped off the chair, stumbling right into Seungcheol. Seungcheol steadied him — out of instinct more than anything — and holy fuck Jeonghan was  _close_ , his lips mere inches away from Seungcheol’s, eyes staring intensely into his own, the tips of his almost shoulder-length hair brushing against the side of Seungcheol’s cheek, a feather-light touch that grounded him in this world.

“We should probably, uh,” Jeonghan breathed out, air hitting the tip of Seungcheol’s nose, “probably get going. Wouldn’t want to be late, you know?”

Seungcheol made a noise of agreement, too busy worrying about the flips his heart was doing at the way Jeonghan’s lips looked this close, at the milky chocolate of his eyes, at the way his hair was brushing ever so gently against his cheek.

_You know what,_ he thought, sunlight coming through the window giving Jeonghan an almost angelic glow,  _fuck it_ , and leaned in. Just a few inches — but a few inches was all it took for their lips to touch.

The kiss was soft at first — nothing more than a gentle press of lips, the warmth and softness almost more than Seungcheol could handle.  _Fuck_ , it felt good — Jeonghan’s lips were as plush and as soft as they looked, and the fact that they were  _kissing_  was enough to make Seungcheol feel lightheaded in the best of ways. But then Jeonghan shifted forwards, his hand moving from against Seungcheol’s chest to tangled in the hair just above the nape of his neck, pulling his lips into his with the kind of ferocity that only came out during their performances. The kiss turned from something soft and simple into something deeper, and Seungcheol would be lying if he said he didn’t like it.

When they finally pulled away — for no reason other than to catch their breath — Jeonghan’s lips were pulled up in the most breathtaking smile. “So,” Jeonghan said, a playful lilt in his voice that Seungcheol couldn’t get enough of, “how about making that fake date a real one?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys first of all 4.8k hits??? almost 300 kudos?? thank you all so much??? what have i done to deserve such kindness from all of you ;-;
> 
> also unexplained hiatus explained - i dance competitively and april is when we have a l l of our competitions so ive been, uhh,,, busy lmao  
> but to anyone that stayed!! i love you all so much thank you <3333


	24. fake it til you make it

**_“you and cheol on a date?”_ **

Hong Jisoo had made many, many mistakes in his twenty years in life. Like allowing Jihoon to take his guitar when he was mad at Mingyu, resulting in a fierce chase out of Jisoo’s bedroom, down the hallway of the dormitory, and against a tree in the front garden, along with Mingyu’s lasting fear of both guitars and Lee Jihoon. Or that time when he decided to wear a white shirt to what Jeonghan had called a ‘painting party,’ resulting in colourful stains that lasted for about seven washes and three months. 

And now, he’d made the biggest mistake he’s ever made in his life — falling for his best friend, who was in love with someone else.

Jisoo sighed, shaking himself out of his funk. His break was just about over, and the amusement park rides weren’t going to operate themselves, as much as he wished they could. Of course, today he had been assigned to the Ferris wheel, a hotspot for couples on a warm fall day like this. 

_ Nothing like watching couples cozy up in the Ferris wheel to remind me of how depressingly single I am,  _ Jisoo thought, fighting back yet another frown as a pair of girls walked past the open door into the carriage of the Ferris wheel hand in hand, the taller girl pressing a soft kiss against the mouth of the darker-haired one the minute Jisoo closed the door.  _ Who wouldn’t want to spend their Sunday like this? _

He pushed the button that moved the wheel to the next carriage almost angrily, stopping it and opening the door with mechanical movements. 

“Oh, hey, Jisoo!” 

Jisoo looked up from where he was currently glaring a hole into the panel of buttons, and was met with a couple of familiar faces. “Hey, Soonyoung. What’re you doing here?”

Soonyoung beamed, tugging a scowling Jihoon to his side. “I’m finally taking Jihoon on a  _ real  _ date!”

“We’ve literally fucked,” Jihoon remarked dryly. “If I wanted to keep it as a friends-with-benefits thing I would have told you a  _ long _ time ago.”

“Well, regardless,” Soonyoung continued, unfazed by Jihoon’s brazenness, “I figured the amusement park would be the most romantic place for us to have our first date because it has enough couple-y stuff to satisfy me, but also has enough rigged games that Jihoon will go through his daily quota of scathing remarks.”

Jisoo laughed, ushering them into the carriage as Soonyoung continued his rant. (He could see the next couple giving him a nasty glare over Soonyoung’s shoulder. “Well, have fun, you two! And Soonyoung, if you want to try anything, these things are pretty stable, mostly soundproof, and the rides last for about half an hour since this is the larger wheel.” He winked, watching as Soonyoung paled and Jihoon turned a violent shade of red. 

The next couple was loaded with only a couple more piercing glares, and one they were done, Jisoo turned the the couple after with a grin on his face, a grin that had managed to make its way to his face after seeing Jihoon and Soonyoung together. 

Jeonghan and Seungcheol were the next couple in line, and his grin fell faster than Mingyu when Jihoon complained about him being “too tall.”

“Jisoo! Hi!” Jeonghan practically shrieked with excitement, a glowing grin on his face. His hand was securely laced with Seungcheol’s, cheeks flushed a rosy pink. 

“Heya.” Jisoo said, a plastered smile back on his face, faker than all of his grandma’s teeth. “You and Cheol on a date?”

“Yep,” Jeonghan said, swinging their hands back and forth between them with an almost childlike happiness. “Double dating with Soonyoung and Jihoonie.”

“Ah.” Jisoo knew that realistically, hearts couldn’t physically break, but that didn’t stop him from feeling like something had shattered inside his ribcage, bits of him that he thought were irrelevant suddenly showing themselves before breaking and leaving. “Well, I hope it goes well!”

He could feel his throat beginning to ache, the kind of hurt that comes before the floodgates in his eyes burst, and swallowed hard.  _ I am not crying here. I will not cry here.  _

_ I’m not going to allow myself to cry here. Not in front of Jeonghan.  _

Jisoo could barely breathe, and he could practically feel the tears beginning to form in the corners of his eyes. Everything felt like it was breaking — his heart, his will — but he shoved each and every feeling down into some deep corner of himself, not allowing it to break free and send him spiraling into heartbreak. 

_ Jeonghan is my best friend _ , he told himself, all the while fighting back tears as he loaded them into their carriage and pushed the button that brought down the next one,  _ and God be damned, I will be happy for him, even if it breaks my fucking heart every day they’re together. _

Jisoo loved Jeonghan, more than anyone he’d ever loved before, and it was for this reason that he couldn’t act on it. Couldn’t tell Jeonghan how he felt, couldn’t risk it all for the slight chance that this love was requited. Because he loved Jeonghan too much, and that meant he’d ignore his own feelings to give Jeonghan his chance at happiness.

It was a shitty reality. But it was one that Jisoo had made peace with, and it was the one he was going to be living for the next God-knows-how-long.

He’d better get used to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok ok i know this is short (and late) (and not published on the right day) bUT I HAVE REASONS OK
> 
> my grandma died recently and her funeral is on the 25th, so i've been really busy helping my parents and even just trying to process this loss, and i hadn't been doing well mentally for a while before that either, plus dance,,,
> 
> so i apologize and i promise that the chapters will come back in full force soon!!! thank you so much for understanding!!!!


	25. bisexual awakening™

_**"gays tend to travel in packs."** _

Hansol wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

Seungkwan was awake now, and although he was still confined to bed in the hospital, Hansol visited him every day after school — bringing him the day’s homework, letting Seungkwan copy his physics homework, having Seungkwan help him with analyzing whatever chapter of  _ To Kill a Mockingbird _ their teacher assigned them that day — and somehow, by the end of the visit, their hands always ended up entwined. (Hansol always complained that his hands were cold, which they were, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t have ulterior motives.)

And by this point, he’d realized that he was very much in love with Seungkwan. Had been, for most of high school, it seemed. (How he’d never realized it, he had no idea.)

But now he was just confused. 

For all his life, Hansol had thought that he was straight. That he liked girls and only girls. And he did — he would still date a girl if the right one crossed his path — but now it turns out that he liked boys (specifically Seungkwan) just as much.

Was that even possible?

It was Friday night, pretty much 2 am, and he had just gotten back from the rap ring, pulling off his mask and beanie and throwing them on the table before plopping down next to Jeonghan, who appeared to be binging  _ Jane the Virgin _ . (Hansol nodded in approval — not the worst show he’d seen on Netflix, definitely one of the more quality ones.) 

He’d only been there a few minutes before he asked Jeonghan the question that had been eating at him since he’d realized he liked Seungkwan. 

“Jeonghan-hyung, can I ask you a question?”

Jeonghan paused the TV, turning to face Hansol. “What’s up?”

Hansol hesitated a bit before asking. “Is it possible to like guys and girls?”

Jeonghan pushed his hair out of his face, looking Hansol right in his eyes. “Okay, look, I may seem like an Experienced Gay™—”

“Did you just say trademark out loud?”

“ — but I literally know nothing other than the fact that gays tend to travel in packs.”

Hansol snorted, thinking of his lunch group at school — Seungkwan, the resident gay; Mingyu, who has a college boyfriend; and kind of Minghao, who literally started dating some guy from his dance group like a week ago. “Ain’t that the truth.”

Jeonghan grinned. “Right? Hell, everyone in my band is some kind of gay.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear. “Anyways, if you want a lecture on all things gay, ask Jihoon. He’s kind of our resident expert.”

Hansol nodded, making a note to text Jihoon as soon as possible. “Thanks, hyung.”

Jeonghan gave Hansol a small smile, pulling him closer and cuddling him. “No problem. Now, let’s get back to our irregularly scheduled telenovela!”

**~= <^>=~**

“Han? Sol? You guys here?” Jihoon called, toeing off his shoes at the door. He walked into their apartment, the smell of instant ramen heavy in the air. “I brought takeout!”

Jeonghan popped out from the bathroom, hair still dripping wet, nearly giving Jihoon a heart attack. “Hi! Just put it on the counter or something, we can get plates and eat while we watch a movie. I’m gonna go to the store to get some popcorn, because for  _ some reason—”  _ he paused to glare in the direction of the living room, raising his voice a fraction “ — we’re all out.”

“In my defense, it’s a good snack!” Hansol called back. Jeonghan just shook his head, letting out a small exasperated sigh. 

“Anywho, I’m gonna take care of that. Make yourself at home and help Hansol make up his mind while I’m gone okay byeeeee~” 

He somehow wriggled past Jihoon in the tight hallway and slipped on his shoes and a jacket, shutting the door behind him as he exited the apartment. Jihoon rolled his eyes, walking into the kitchen and putting the plastic bag full of takeout on the kitchen counter, ambling over to the oven and surveying the pot of ramen boiling with disgust. “Do you guys only know how to cook ramen?”

“I can make eggs?” Hansol replied, walking into the kitchen to survey the takeout. “Ooh, nice, Chinese.”

“How’s Seungkwan?” Jihoon asked. He rummaged through their drawers until he found their box of cookies, taking one out and stuffing half of it into his mouth.

“He’s good,” Hansol said, something Jihoon couldn’t identify flashing over his face for a split second. “Won’t be back at school til next week, though. Apparently concussions take longer to heal than I thought.”

Hansol paused in his monologue, causing Jihoon to turn his attention away from the cookies and fully towards Hansol. “Something wrong?”

Hansol gave Jihoon a nervous smile, fear flashing in his eyes. “Actually, yeah.” He took a deep breath before speaking, his words rushing out all at once. “Isitpossibletolikeguysandgirlsatthesametime?”

Jihoon blinked, only understanding about half of the flood of words that just escaped Hansol’s mouth. “I’m sorry?”

“Is it possible to like girls and guys at the same time?” Hansol repeated, the fear on his face more apparent now. 

There was a tense silence for a few seconds, mostly just because Jihoon still had cookie in his mouth. “Did Jeonghan tell you to talk to me?” he asked, voice completely serious. Hansol nodded nervously, gaze dropping down to his socks.

“No, don’t be nervous, come on— Aw, are you crying? Please don’t cry,” Jihoon said, pulling Hansol into a hug (and even though he was a lot smaller than Hansol he knew the younger loved being the little spoon.) They maneuvered awkwardly into the living room, sitting down on the couch as Hansol wiped at the tears pooling in his eyes.

“Ok, well, let’s start with something simple. What do you know about sexuality?”

Hansol sniffled a little, but his tears were starting to dry, which meant that Jihoon’s tactic of distraction with education was working for now. “Uh… well, I know that you can like the same gender, or you can like the opposite gender.”

“Right. But, there’s also a lot more than just straight and gay.”

Confusion flashed across Hansol’s face. “There is?”

Jihoon nodded. “For example, you know my brother Chan, right?” When Hansol nodded, he continued. “Chan identifies as a biromantic asexual, which is neither gay nor straight.”

Hansol let out a little laugh. “That sounds kinda confusing.”

“Yup. And my older brother Yoongi is pansexual, which means he can like anyone regardless of gender.”

“You can do that?”

“Yup.”

Hansol blinked, stunned by how much knowledge Jihoon really had. “How do you know all this stuff?”

Jihoon laughed. “Well, when you grow up with a pansexual brother and have to help your other brother figure out what asexuality is, you kinda learn a lot.”

Hansol nodded, mulling over what Jihoon had told him. “So is there a word for if you like guys and girls, and those two only?”

Jihoon grinned. “Yep. Bisexual.”

“Bisexual…” Hansol liked the way the word sounded, and something about it felt… right. “Hyung, I think I’m bisexual.”

Jihoon gave Hansol another hug (two hugs?? In one evening?? More likely than you think.) “If that’s what feels the best for you, then I support that. Welcome to the LGBT community, Hansol.”

Hansol grinned, euphoria spreading through his body. “Jeonghan hyung was right— gays really do travel in packs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM BACK BITCHES
> 
> i kinda don't have an explanation for the hiatus but HUGE shoutout to the people who stuck through it and came back to this hellish fic
> 
> i love you all and i appreciate each and every person that takes the time to read this fic.


	26. eternal

_**"to minghao, my eternal,"** _

Minghao was tired.

Tired of school. Tired of the snow that seemed to fall down in clumps, and only once a week, once the rest of the snow had melted away and it started to look more like late fall and less like early winter. Tired of the way his parents would ignore him every day but the first of the month, when interim reports came out and they interrogated him about his grade. Tired of the guilt burning low in his stomach every time he saw Seungkwan at school, of the way that Junhui checked his wrists every day they had practice to make sure he hadn’t done anything, of the lack of creativity in his brain that wasn’t letting him choreograph. 

He walked into the studio at the university, shedding his layers of jackets and sweaters and leaving them by the mirrors, stretching until Junhui decided to show up. The familiar ringtone of his phone burst from the pile of clothes at the front of the room, and Minghao stopped stretching to go pick it up, Junhui’s familiar face shining up from the phone screen.

Minghao accepted the call, immediately greeted with Junhui’s voice saying  _ “Babe?” _

He grinned. “Hey, Junhui.”

_ “Remember how I said we were in studio 3A today?” _

“Yeah,” Minghao said, walking around aimlessly in the giant studio. “I’m there right now.”

_ “Well, I forgot that I changed the studios last night and then forgot to tell you. We’re in studio 1C — I’m already there, come meet me.” _

Minghao sighed, rolling his eyes. (He knew Junhui couldn’t see him, but the sigh was enough to convey his exasperation.) “Aish, so forgetful.”

_ “Hey, I had a big assignment due last night!” _

Minghao grinned, grabbing his sweaters and jackets and making his way out of the studio, turning off the lights. “I know, I know. Just teasing~”

Junhui laughed, a sound that Minghao had yet to get tired of.  _ “Okay, see you soon. Bye~” _

“Bye.”

Minghao hung up, pocketing his phone as he made his way through the large building.  _ God, why did Junhui have to change our studio to the one on the other side of the building? _ Surprisingly, there was no music playing as he walked down the empty halls, no lights on in any other studio, nothing but the fluorescent light that had yet to be fixed flickering erratically. Wasn’t there a Bangtan practice today? Where was Chan, and Soonyoung and Jimin and the rest of them?

He pushed open the door to studio 1C, immediately attacked by what felt like three separate people hugging him and a large chorus of “Surprise!” Minghao blinked in shock, taking in the room in front of him.

The room had been thoroughly covered in streamers, with the wall opposite to the mirror holding a giant banner that screamed “Happy Birthday Minghao!” in bright red and yellow. There was a table set up against the back wall, holding a large variety of gift-wrapped boxes and bags, and a small but elegant cake. “What’s going on?” he asked, detangling himself from the pile of people hugging him. 

Junhui pressed a soft kiss against his lips, eyes sparkling with wonder and joy “Happy birthday, my fairy.”

“It’s my birthday?”

“What do you  _ mean _ is it your birthday,” Soonyoung said from the floor, where he’d been knocked when Junhui, Chan, and Jeongguk rushed forward to hug him. “It’s November seventh, dude. How can you forget your own damn birthday?”

Minghao recalled how empty he’d felt the past few days, living in a gray haze of homework and dancing and eating because he had to, not because he wanted to. “I dunno, I just kinda did.”

“Well, surprise, you fucker,” Jimin said, pulling him into a headlock and ruffling his hair. “How old are you now, thirteen?’

Minghao glared at Jimin, twisting out of the headlock. “I’m seventeen, hyung.”

Jimin grinned that shit-eating smile of his, reaching up to ruffle Minghao on the head again. “I know — just teasing you while I still can.”

“You’re literally only two years older than me,” Minghao said, glaring at him. “ _ And _ I’m taller than you.”

Jimin clicked his tongue, punching Minghao on the arm. “Tch, so disrespectful. When I was your age—”

“Not that long ago.”

“ — hey! When I was your age I actually had  _ respect  _ for my hyungs.” His statement was accompanied by a pointed glare, which Minghao opted to ignore, provoking another squawk of protest from Jimin. 

“I’ve never had a surprise party before,” Minghao said, wandering towards the table at the back of the room, eyeing all the presents with barely hidden anticipation. “This is super thoughtful of you guys!” 

“Thanks—” Soonyoung started, but Minghao quickly cut him off.

“You know, especially considering you have maybe one brain cell between the four of you.”

“Hey!”

“What do you mean the four of us?” Chan asked, looking around the room in confusion. “Last I checked there were five.”

Minghao grinned, eyes seeking out Junhui. “My boyfriend has enough brain cells to fill all of your empty little brains.” Junhui returned his grin, walking over to Minghao and pressing a soft kiss against his forehead, and then another on his lips.

“Open your presents!” Jeongguk yelled, bounding over to the table and gesturing excitedly to the mess of bags and boxes haphazardly wrapped and placed on the rickety plastic table. “We got a bunch of the other Bangtan dancers to pitch in too, like Changminnie and Taeyong-hyung!”

“Aww, you guys didn’t have to get me anything,” Minghao protested, picking up the box closest to him. It was light, wrapped messily in red paper, a small golden bow stuck on the top, as if it was an afterthought. The small card on the side has a doodle of a bunny giving a thumbs up, the words ‘from the golden maknae!!’ scrawled beside it. 

Minghao opened the box, greeted by a set of black earrings, round shiny stones with a simple metal backing. “These are really nice, Jeongguk! Thanks!”

“Wear them now!” Jeongguk shouted, using Jimin’s shoulder’s to boost himself into another dimension as he jumped about. “I wanna see you wearing them!!”

Minghao let out a small ‘tch,’ rolling his eyes. “You’re older than me? Hard to believe that when you act like this.” Jeongguk let out a small noise of protest, quickly quieted when Minghao unclipped the simple silver studs he had been wearing and replacing them with the black stones from Jeongguk. He turned towards the mirrors, admiring the way the stones sparkled subtly when the light hit them just right. “Damn, these are actually really nice — thanks, dude!”

“No problem!” Jeongguk replied, a grin taking over his features. “Least I can do for you.”

“Open mine next,” Junhui said, the corners of his lips turning up ever so slightly. “I really hope you’ll like it.”

“I’ll like anything you give me.”

“Cheesy bastard,” Junhui said, mocking voice a sharp contrast to the admiration and love in his eyes. “Anyways, open the gift.”

Minghao tore into the box eagerly, discarding the paper covering the box on the table and not giving it another thought. Inside the box was a multitude of things — a card, with characters Minghao first took for Korean but upon closer inspection recognized as Mandarin; a small mesh bag with what looked like a pair of tickets in it; and finally, a small, nondescript black box. “Open the box last,” Junhui said, excitement creeping into his voice. Minghao nodded, pulling the bag out of the box and carefully untying the ribbon holding it shut.

He quickly scanned the text on the tickets, his jaw dropping wide open. “No way!” Minghao turned to Junhui, jaw still on the floor. “You got us tickets to see  _ the _ J-Hope? And during his joint tour with RM and Jin??” Junhui nodded, a grin spreading across his face. “But — they’ve been sold out for months!”

“A friend of mine and her girlfriend had to cancel last minute,” Junhui said, the grin on his face sending soft butterflies through Minghao’s stomach. “They gave me their tickets so they didn’t go to waste.”

Minghao pressed a quick kiss against Junhui’s lips, excitement and joy pulsing low in his stomach. “God, you really are the best boyfriend.”

Junhui gestured towards the card and the box, still on the table. “Take your pick — they’re both sappy and will probably make you cry, so I changed my mind about you opening the box last.”

Minghao glared at him. “So the real reason you brought me here was to see me cry?” he asked, provoking a few laughs from the rest of the dancers, eagerly spectating this exchange. “Man, I feel so loved.” He picked up the box, then the card, weighing them in his hands. A moment passed, and then he set down the box, opening the card. His eyes scanned over the familiar Mandarin characters, something he only saw in the books his parents had brought over from China when they moved, but could still read as fluently as he spoke.

_ To Minghao, my eternal, _

_ In China, there is a legend that we are bound to our soulmates by a red string tied from our left pinky to theirs. (You probably know this, but I promise it’s important.) I’ve only been dating you a month, and barely known you longer than that, but I can feel that this — that us — is going to last a long time. I think you’re my forever person, Minghao, my red string soulmate, and I really hope you feel the same. Despite the fact that it’s probably too soon to say this, I know that I’ve met you before. In another life, maybe? But either way, my love for you spans several lifetimes. Remember that. _

_ Feel free to keep this card. Read it whenever you feel down, or when your thoughts start to run away from you. I’m here for you. _

_ Love, Wen Junhui, (hopefully) your eternal. _

Minghao looked up from the card, throat thick with the beginnings of unshed tears. “Jun! This— I—”

“You like it?” he said, a shy smile on his lips. 

Minghao threw his arms around him. “God, I love it. Love  _ you _ .”

Junhui kissed him, hands tugging lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck. When he finally pulled away, his eyes were bright with a light Minghao only ever saw when he was dancing, and a smile was dancing across his face. “Open the box now.” 

Minghao nodded, retrieving the small box from where he placed it on the table. He opened it, a gasp escaping him once he saw what was inside. 

“What is it!” Soonyoung all but shrieked, launching himself off of Jeongguk’s shoulders and a good three feet in the air. 

A small laugh escaped Minghao’s lips. “Not gonna lie, I kinda forgot you guys were there.”

Jimin let out a small ‘tch,’ reaching around Chan to punch Minghao in the arm. “We don’t like third-wheeling either, but it’s your day, so.”

“You like the ring, though?” Junhui asked, pulling it out of the box and sliding it gently on Minghao’s left pinky finger. “I figured, well, it’s small enough that you can’t get mad at me for spending a lot of money and it can also mean something.” He pulled his hand away, letting Minghao admire the small silver band, an infinity sign engraved on the sign. “If you’ll let it.”

Minghao no longer had words, overcome with a rush of joy he hadn't felt in weeks. He nodded, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, and wrapped his arms around Junhui, kissing him long and deep.

And for the first time in a while, Minghao was happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi so i died  
> hiatus explanation: i started high school! and my school has an insane academic program which basically means i have very little time to write. also, i for some reason got stuck on this chapter for months. i shit you not.  
> anywho, i hope you enjoyed! fluff has always been my specialty so this was easy to write, even if it didn't exactly flow the best.


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